Butterfly Balm

When I awoke from my sleep walk I knew that the danger had passed. And that when you’ve not a thing left to loose, you fear not a thing. It’s taken me years however, to realize that there are few who share my perspective.

There are those who advise me not to walk or ride along the side the of the road, only on a bike path. “It’s too dangerous.” They say. “Aren’t you afraid of walking alone?” A friend once asked. “Afraid of what?” my honest reply.

You may think I’m a danger seeker, an adrenalin junkie. You are largely wrong and slightly right. You see, I’ve already lost all of the things that many may be afraid of losing. Oh, I won’t try to kid you. It wasn’t easy. It was really bad and for a long time. But while I slumbered, fear in and of itself disappeared. Fear of the worst because the things I’d feared most in life had already occurred. Fear of losing my child, my family, my home, every tiny scrap of possession and even my beloved dogs. My future, my present, my life. Yes, I faced the lighted tunnel. The fear of multiple coinciding, life threatening health issues. Fear of anxiety.

Fear of fear.

It all came to pass in a number of bloody battles, an unintended war fought by a weary woman on a war torn battlefield of a life.

As I lived my previously ordinary middle class life of relative caution and calm, the dangers of simply living it held tight their grip. My sleep walk years, a nightmare when merely waking up was fraught with danger; breathing itself, an insurmountable challenge.

They’re a blur to me now, those years. Thankfully, they were even then.

But I am given today.

You may wonder why it is that I so thoroughly enjoy my nature adventures, my attention to subtleties. I want to experience the clarity of it, the crisp, clear rawness of it’s detail. I want to feel the wide-awakeness of it on even the minute level. For in the minute lies the grand. Danger be damned.

Through the sultry sulphorous air I pedal to the Point, to Breakwater Village despite the breathing alert. Breathing I’ve finally mastered. At waters edge I lighten upon the most magnificent butterflies flittering in a butterfly balm bush for souls almost found. My eye strikes upon brilliant speckles of white, yellow, divinely detailed splotches of orange interlaced with intricate strips of dusted coal. Winged daydreams flit across blue, grace green, fly above fuchsia, lace into lavender, touching softly onto castles of vapor.

I am awake. I stay myself under a searing sun. I breathe salve of sweet, salty air as butterfly balm infuses my life like a dream.


You Win?

I haven’t one picture of him to gaze over in my bereavement.
She confiscated every last printed photograph of my baby boy.
No birth, no newborn, no gaping smiles just for me from my lovely Jeffrey James. No toddler, preschooler making mud pies, kicking through rain puddles, catching frogs. No pictures of my sunshine, my world.
No kindergarten walk to bus stop, holding hands. No front doorstep photo every first day of the school year. No strawberry blond, no freckled face beaming toward me God’s every Grace.
In her hateful, crooked, illegal eviction of me last month, I sat watching in horror. Crippled in my wheelchair, while
Dr. Joslin B. Leasca, MSN, DNP, FNP, CNL, CNE, Professor of Nursing Studies at #Sacred Heart University College of Nursing

hypocritical healthcare, self promoting do-gooder, South Kingstown ‘SMART’ Committee Loud Mouth ordered every last photograph of my now deceased only child to be confiscated to destinations only to be imagined.
When I informed her of his demise last week and her satanic actions, she called the South Kingstown police with a false report of me being a danger to myself. They showed up last night with high intensity flashlights glaring through my windows as I ate my dinner trying to rest, grieve in peace.
‘Open the door!’ ‘Open the door!’
‘Why are you here?’
‘Just doing a wellness check.’
‘I don’t need you, who sent you?’
‘Dispatch. Open the door!’
‘No. I won’t open the door. Go away. I don’t need you. Leave the premises. You’re not needed here.’
And they left.
FYI Dr. Jacca, Suicide Is Not On My Radar. So get that out of your head.
Jeff lived every level of hell since he was an adolescent and still never offed himself.
I will honor his life by continuing mine.

As a grief stricken mother it finally occurred to me to outright asked her through a FB message what she did with my photos,

“what did you do with all of my photo albums of my beautiful boy? 😭😫😩😱”

This was her response:

“I’ve had enough of you. You were in that apartment for about 4 hours when the constable and movers were moving your belongings You had every opportunity to tell them to retrieve the box of mementos that you had stuffed the eves covered in rotten food and garbage. Apparently that’s how much they meant to you. I found them when I had a demolition crew in there removing the mice and squirrels you had been feeding through the windows you smashed out, apparently that’s how much those photo albums meant to you. They have been sent to the storage facility where your belongings are. Don’t ever contact me again.”

Apparently after becoming aware of this very written article she contacted me again in a FB message,

“When this blog is taken down I will agree to release your box from Jones Storage. Until then I do not agree to release the box. Your alternative is to pay all of your belongings and remove them all from storage. https://wildewovenwords.wordpress.com/2021/01/16/you-win/”

My beloved boy is gone.

Now what,

Dr. Joslin B. Leasca, MSN, DNP, FNP, CNL, CNE, wise woman who preaches ethics and healthcare standards to young minds,

You win?

All quotes directly from Facebook Messenger exchange between myself and Joslin Leasca as can be found in their eternal archive.

Revised 1.21.2021

N.B. Wilde