Simplicity. Not routine.

I AM TERRIFIED OF BEING STUCK. For that very reason I have fought any kind of routine or steady, set schedule, responsibility. I will do it if I have to, don't get me wrong, but I despise it. My gypsy heart and I have a hard time accepting the fact that humans need routine. Without it nothing would ever get done. I also think that I'm quite a selfish human being and like to do the things that make me feel good. And doing what I'm "supposed" brings out my rebellious nature. If I didn't know I was "supposed" to do it then I would do it with a big 'ol smile plastered on my face. But NOW, I have formed a very passionate and firey love affair with country music and have encountered a number of people that have illustrated so beautifully what it looks like to find the absolute beauty in a simple life. That's right. White picked fence, 2 1/2 children. That's what I'm talking about. Having a steady job, a home filled with laughter and love, happy healthy children, loving the person you're married to until the end of this earthly life, rejoicing in failures because it means you're not too proud to admit you're wrong (a feat worth rejoicing in alone), being honest and hard working, loving Jesus like you have nothing to prove. THAT'S who I want to be. Not a super hero. I don't want to save the world. I want to be and stop striving to be something else. That's the song of my heart.

Ugh

As you can see this blog has some irreparable damages done to it! Please follow my new blog at kristinball.blogspot.com

Gracias!

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Mistakes and Blunders ( I love that word!)

The one downside of posting my writing in blog form is that I can't go back and change anything without it being confusing, which for me might be a good thing. I'm a fan of erasing everything and starting over. This is the way I clean too. I just throw everything away. I'd rather toss it all and start afresh than fix what is already there. A good friend of mine said that, when it comes to writing, it's better to just finish something than try to make everything perfect and exact. I am fighting my very nature to not start this whole thing over. I'm slowly getting the concept that to write does not mean you're always going to be inspired and that everything is going to flow naturally from your heart into a readable and understandable fashion. It means that you have to be diligent and work at writing.

“I don't like to write, but I love to have written”

That's how I feel in a nutshell. Stay tuned for more writing this afternoon.
Love, Kristin
PS- Do you SEE how spiffy my new design is?

Vacation Inspiration

I just need to go on a few more vacations and I'll have this book written before I know it

“Well, we're just fine ma'am, a little on the famished side, but fine just the same. We would love to buy a couple of your beautiful apples though.” He said picking up 2 of the biggest ones she had and placing them in a plastic bag. He was made of organic kindness, undefiled and unpolluted.
“It's easy to be kind to someone you don't know. Once he gets to know who you really are things will change.” Billy's voice echoed in my mind. Chills racked my body. I looked at Kairon who was still carrying on a jovial conversation with the apple lady. His presence gave me a strange strength to confine the cruel voice in the prison I had created for it years ago.
I knew that I had to be going mad; following a man I didn't know to who knows where. It didn't make sense. I had spent my life building fortresses around myself. No one could hurt me if I made myself not feel. But in a matter of hours Kairon had busted through every wall I had ever built. For reasons unknown to even myself I completely trusted him. There was something natural about the way he held himself and interacted with the people around him. He was the way we were all supposed to be; kind, gentle, loving. I let my mind linger on the last adjective, if it could be called an adjective at all. His kind of love was more action than it was descriptive.
“Well, sugar, it was such a delight speaking with you! Please come back and see us soon!”
“Of course Roseanne! Have yourself a wonderful day.” He said slipping her more money than was necessary for our small purchase. We grabbed some sandwiches and two bottles of water and went to sit on a bench outside of the bustling market. He sat a good distance away from me, probably to make me feel more comfortable. I scooted closer, not ashamed of how much I needed him to be by my side. I eagerly bit into the sweetest apple I had ever tasted and downed most of the water in a matter of minutes. If my headache and swollen fingers weren't enough evidence that I was dehydrated, my impossible thirst after drinking the whole bottle of water confirmed my suspicions. Kairon had set his food to the side and observed me. He was rubbing his forehead with the tips of his fingers in a distressed fashion. He opened his mouth to say something and then snapped it shut. It reminded me of the snapping turtles I had seen on a “recreational” day at the zoo with Billy and all the girls. I had yet to see a dent in his shell of overwhelming confidence, and it was somehow comforting to know that he was struggling with his words. It made him more like me. Finally his mouth opened and words began to form.
“Ava,” he began right as I was taking a large bite of my sandwich. An unruly piece of lettuce had managed to escape the vice of my mouth and dangled like a slimy green worm. I raised my eyes in response to his acknowledgment and quickly wiped the traitorous vegetable from my face. He smiled at my obvious embarrassment but it was a shadowed smile, not similar to the sun-like one I was used to. He took a deep breath and started again.
“I'm really sorry.” He said, ripping his gaze from my face like it physically pained him to look at me. What was this all about? What could he possibly be sorry for? I sat in silence, awkwardly chewing my food, allowing him to process and formulate his words. “I'm sorry that I didn't feed when you were hungry. I'm sorry that I never gave you a drink of water when you were thirsty. If I had just listened I could have been there in an instant. It makes me sick.” He pushed his sandwich to my side and I tried to swallow my food along with the lump that was forming in my throat. Seeing him in turmoil caused me turmoil.
“What do you mean? How could you have possibly known what I was going through? You don't even know me.” I said not wanting to look at his troubled form. He was leaning forward now, his hands cradling his tussled head of hair. From his mouth came such a disturbing groan, I was convinced he was in actual, real pain. Instinctively I reached my hand out and rested it on his back.
“But I do know you Ava Kennedy. I know that your father left your mother, pregnant and alone to face the world. I know that she worked three jobs to keep you and her afloat. I know that she loved you and took care of you the best she knew how. I know that she sent you to the best school and had no idea what was lurking in the establishment that was supposed to be taking care of her baby girl. There was a teacher there named Billy Mason,” We shuddered simultaneously at his name. “He became your friend and you started to trust him like the dad you never had. I know that he lured you to his car one day when you were 10 years old and that he kidnapped you, held you captive, and,” he choked back a sob and I could do nothing but stare at him. The tears dripped off my face like a melting icicle as I tried to process what he was saying.
“And I know that he sold your soul and your body to evil men for a few extra dollars. I know that you've been beaten more than you've been held, I know that you've been despised more than you've been loved and I know that you've been abandoned more than you have been supported and it's all because of me.”

The Art of Discipline

I am learning what it means to be disciplined and diligent with the time that I've been given. I'm such a time waster... hence my lack of blogging. I've got a lot of time to make up for in the next couple of days, so I apologize in advance for the spam blogs :)



I stopped to take a look around, to say my last goodbyes. I had heard of girls like me not being able to say goodbye to the lifestyle that had imprisoned them. I had always resented them, thought they had to be mindless to not take any opportunity they had been given. Standing at the door about to leave everything that I had known, I quickly realized I was no different. Prison walls are predictable and they never change. They protect you from the elements and become acceptable and comfortable compared to facing the cold, heartless world outside. Eventually, I even convinced myself that this place was home. That I had loved my captor. But as I looked around the empty trailer I knew there was no life here. There was no living in captivity. There were the free and living and the trapped and the dead. I was done with death, had experienced too much of it in my life and was all too ready to start living. Grabbing the door handle, I walked into the early morning air, not taking a single look back. As I walked I emphasized every step, leaving one reality behind and embracing the new, whatever that may be. Kairon was leaning against the trunk of a large tree.
“Hey, wait up!” I heard him call. I had walked right past him in my new found determination. Whirling around I grabbed his hand with an unexpected boldness.
“Where to next? I want to get out of here,” I said trying to drag him along. He was so strong! Granted I wasn't much of a weight lifter, but trying to pull him was like moving a mountain.
“You are one puzzling girl. You haven't asked one question about who I am or where I'm taking you. I thought this was going to be a lot more difficult, but you're making my life pretty easy.”
“I don't care who you are, or where we're going. I just want to leave. If you wanted to take advantage of me you would have already done it. Let's go!” I said frantically. I could see him in my mind; Billy peeking out from behind the trailer, boring a hole through me with those beautiful steal eyes, Billy saying those words that dripped with manipulation and control. I could hear him.
“You're worthless. How could you possibly think this man would want you? You're damaged goods. I'm the only one that understands what you've been through. I'm the only one who can take care of you.” My breaths started coming in short gasps. Kairon grabbed my face with gentle hands and looked straight into my eyes and I was overcome by a peace that I didn't understand.
“Let's go.” He said nodding, as if he was privy to every detail of my inner dialogue.

I focused on matching his every step, mostly to take my mind off everything else. We walked out of the parking lot and down a road to end up in a crowded farmer's market. It was then that I spotted a city sign. We were in Oceanside, Oregon a tiny town located on a hill butted up against endless beach. The people in the market mingled among each other like best friends and small crowds of people congregated around different booths of farm grown vegetables and home made crafts. The smells of honey and apples overwhelmed my senses. My stomach growled in protest and could not be silenced. I had forgotten the last time it was that I had had an apple or anything for that matter. Like Eve in the Garden of Eden I was magnetically drawn to the stand that contained my bright red desire. My mouth watered so badly I was sure that drool had to be running down my face.
“Would you like one?” Kairon asked probably noting the crazed, hungry look in my eyes. He was so kind to me, with no pretenses or ulterior motives. Once again I could not shake my feeling of worthlessness.
“No, that's okay.” I lied. He smiled and shook his head as he turned to the vendor.

“Hi there. How are you today?” He asked the plump lady with a head full of hair that matched the fiery red of her apples. Her smile was friendly and welcoming, like the smell of apple pie.
“Well I'm downright peachy sweetheart, how are you?” She asked

Another day. Another Page

He dropped his hands to his side, as if waking up from a dream, and studied my confused expression.
“ I'm sorry. You must think I'm crazy. I'm assuming you were referring to something more general. Like a name maybe?” He said with the grin that was perpetually on his face.
“A name would be nice.” I managed to breath out.
“People call me Kairon,” He said extending his familiar hand that had changed everything. My own hand, like a puppet on a string, mirrored his actions.
“People call me Ava,” I said boldly looking into his eyes, knowing the effect they would have on me. I couldn't describe the moment as romantic, nor could I even say that I loved the man that stood in front of me. The word love wasn't strong enough to describe the gratitude, awe and wonder that overwhelmed me when I stood in his presence.
“Ava,” he said thoughtfully. “Very fitting for you.”
“It means bird.”
“That it does. So, little bird, I believe it's time for you to pack and fly away. Are you ready to say goodbye to this place?” His words slapped me like an angry lover. Why did we have to go? I finally felt safe and loved and he wanted to take that away. I let go of his hand and crossed my arms around me like a pouting child. The deep belly laugh I received in return caught me off guard.
“Would it help if I told you that I was coming along?” He asked crossing his own arms across his chest. It did help. I shrugged my shoulders in surrender. I would go wherever he went. He was my home. I knew that in the deepest parts of my heart. There was no point of resisting it. “Great! Now let's get going, tide is coming in.” He said nodding to our ocean. I said a silent, mournful goodbye and started the trek to the path that led to the parking lot. The white, dingy trailer I had called home for many torturous years looked abandoned in the empty parking lot. It sat in the shade and the darkness that shrouded it was so appropriate. I hadn't realized or felt Kairon's strong arm wrap around my shoulders. He pushed me forward, though all I wanted to do was run in the other direction; to fly away and never return.
“Are you sure he's gone?” I asked, rubbing the sweat of my hands on my torn, loose fitting jeans. Billy had permitted me to buy them after blood from his most recent beating had stained the only pair I had. Kairon chuckled. He was always laughing. I liked that.
“Yes I am very sure of it. No one gets to hurt you anymore.” He said gently stroking my shoulder.
“It's just... I don't really have anything inside of there. I'm wearing the only things I own. Let's just leave.” I said, trying to turn the other way.
“It's important Ava. I'm sure there has to be something you'd like to take with you. We won't ever be able to come back here.”
He was right. There was one thing that I would always regret not bringing with me. Taking a deep, cleansing breath I stepped forward, but Kairon remained planted where he was standing.
“Aren't you coming with me?” I pleaded. He simply shook his head.
“No, dear. This is something you need to do by yourself.”
Knowing that he wouldn't budge on his decision, I realized this was something that I needed to do alone. I had to feel the cold handle of the small door that had ushered in my beaters, accusers, and false friends. I had to walk on the floor that had been my bed even on the coldest nights; the tile that had been soaked with my tears. I had to prune this rotten branch from my life to make room for new growth.
The deep, unnatural darkness that consumed the inside of the trailer held a far too familiar oppression. It reeked of alcohol and urine and stung my eyes. The family of flies that encrusted the red curtains were the only sign of life and that comforted me. I quickly ran to the pillow on the small, makeshift bed and ripped into it with a fury. Feathers floated peacefully around me as I pulled out the gold locket I had hid for the past 14 years. Sometimes in a pillow, sometimes in my pocket, always out of sight. I kissed it and jammed it into my pocket, anxious to be released from the growing panic that was rising inside of me.