Mr. Rogers,

I wanted to tell you thank you for everything. Thank you for encouraging me to continue writing. Thank you for giving me a safe place to crash when things were chaotic in my life. Thank you for introducing me to your family and friends. But, most of all thank you for just being you.

If “Love is patient”
and “Love is kind”,
then why do I feel
like I’m losing my mind?

It’s not easy to be patient,
when your family is all around.
It’s also hard to be kind,
Or, at least, that’s what I have found.

My mother’s mind wanders,
she never stays on task.
When it comes to what she’s doing,
I always have to ask!

“Where are you going now?”
“How long will it take?”
“Do you have to do that right away?”
“You’re going to make us late!”

Granny’s got a mouth,
and she runs it every day.
When it comes to me and Mom,
she’s always got something to say!

“Go brush your hair,
it looks like a wig!”
“Oh, you’re getting seconds?
Your belly’s getting big!”

Snapping back is in my nature,
sometimes I want to fight!
But I love them both so much,
so, on my tongue, I bite.

I give myself some time,
to process what I heard.
I remember who I’m talking to,
before I speak a word.

Mom might drive me crazy,
but she brought me in this world.
I know I gave her a hard time,
when I was just a girl.

Granny doesn’t mean to hurt us,
when her words come out so sharp.
She just doesn’t have a filter,
but she does have a heart.

We’re all a little crazy,
we’re each a little nuts.
But at the end of the day,
that’s what makes us “US”!

So it may not be easy
to be patient and kind,
but I’ll put in the extra work
for this family of mine.

-Caitlin Jablonsky

“I wrote this poem from my wife’s perspective about her relationship with her mother and grandmother.”
-Matty Jablonsky

To express and not to impress.
That’s what my wardrobe mantra has always been.
My insecurities, my assets, my emotions, my sartorial choices. My clothes have always been about just me.
What I wish to is what I wear.
Wore them pants wide with arrogant pride while most felt pressurized to snuggle into those skinnies.
Dared the unforgiving jumpsuit before it pole-vaulted into it’s current fashionista glory.
Fashion trends may fail but personal style always stays and slays.
Fashion has copycats but style is unimitable. Fashion runs the risk to look frumpy, style is consistently classy!
My clothes have always been my strongest mode of self expression and hold the power to strip me.
Strip me of my fears, my vulnerabilities, my facades and expose my inner moods and eccentricities which can be quite scary!
I have always looked at my style as a metric of how well I know my body. I realize my body is ever evolving with age and hence organically so must my style.
For what fits may not necessarily flatter.
I let no brand, no magazine , no nobody tell me what befits me. For that is my mind and my body’s prerogative only.
I shall always be my own fashion house, my recurring muse , my own runaway supermodel and most of all my own worst critique!
As I contemplate color blocking warm and cold, throwing some solid pattern on prints , or experimenting with unconventional hemlines , I would like to do so with complete abandon of external validation.
For ultimately it’s always about what the final look does for me and never about how others choose to see.

I was browsing through “My Mother’s Story” for a prompt. Not for my mother, and not for the children I don’t plan on having, but for me. I am my own mother in many senses.

“What was the hardest period of your life and why?”

My instant thought was “in a sense I am still living it, yet it has passed many times”.
It’s recurring. I am plagued with anxiety and depression many times for many reasons.
It never completely leaves me; sometimes it’s just managed better. It’s like keeping it in a box in the attic.
Then a trigger or a stress, consciously or not, just opens the attic door. Scours through the piles of chaos. Finds the box. And of course, proceeds to dump all of its belongings in every bit of the house. Messy messy I feel.

Right now, I am exhausted. Drained. Sad. Far from content. Miles from happy.
I want rest – not from sleep, but from life’s stresses.
I need clarity; a sure direction on where I am going.
I desire joy – self acceptance, motivation, calmness.
I’m yearning for change – beach, sand, sun on end.

I am the type of tired a nap doesn’t shake.
I’m so uneasy that a hug doesn’t help relax me.

Is this what a quarter life crisis feels like?
And although 75% of people in my age bracket experience this, does that actually make it normal?
Even more unsettling.

So I’ll take this day as both a win and a loss. Winning because I’m making it through with every bit of life inside of me. Losing because I know times have been and will be better.
The stable me will return. She will strike again with her optimism, free spirit, and bolts of energy.

Until then, a restless girl I will be.

Hello everyone…I’m new here, but not new to writing. I’ve been having a hard time getting back into writing and being inspired to write or even get the urge. I’ve had small surges here and there lately…but maybe this site can help change that.

In the cosmic dance of chance and fate,
A story unfolds, a love so great.
A Spectrum of colors, a call in the night,
Where fate intervened, two worlds took flight.

In the realm of pixels and data streams,
A Spectrum call center, where reality gleams.
As a troubleshooter, I entered the scene,
Little did I know, fate was foreseen.

In the sunshine state, where palm trees sway,
Florida’s warmth met Ohio’s gray.
A sweet voice on my line,
A connection so divine.

Fate had more in its grand design.
Little did I know, she’d soon be mine,
She insisted on more, a number to exchange,
Feeding into destiny’s range.

Two and a half years, our connection grew,
Before I gave into her irresistible pursuit.
A realization of self-discovery, coming to light,
As I embraced the truth of my own unique sight.

In the closet’s shadow, I found my way,
Guided by fate’s hand, in the light of day.
Coming out, my thoughts unfurled,
She stood by my side, as I reshaped my world.

Long-distance whispers across state lines,
A love so deep, like vintage wines.
Florida to Ohio, miles and miles apart,
Yet, she captured my soul and entered my heart.

Through video calls and messages, love took its place,
A connection so strong, no distance can erase.
Her laughter echoed through a virtual space,
Serenading me in a symphony of love and unspoken grace.

In her, I found a safe harbor, a haven of peace,
Long-distance love, a sweet release.
She, a lighthouse, guiding me through,
In the vast ocean of love, our connection grew.

Miles may stretch, but love knows no bounds,
With the help of fate, our story resounds.
A love that bridges the space and time,
A testament to fate, beautifully sublime.

Here’s to the place where it all began,
Our fate smiled, as it crafted our unique plan.
In the Spectrum of love, we found our place,
A love story written by destiny’s grace.