Ramblings of an Old, Romantic Soul

Happy Birthday, Queer! (Sister McGee) My sister, my life long friend…You have been with me the longest, through thick and thin, tears and laughter, sorrow and joy.  For 50 years we have shared our lives: from small children playing make believe games, to teenagers sharing crushes and loves, to adults, married with husbands and families. You, Kate, are amazing.  I don’t believe you realize the impact you have on the lives that surround you ~ how lost we would be without you in our lives.  You have the love and devotion of a man who has been smitten with you fro 21 years.  Your children love and adore you, as do their friends ~ you are the cool Mom!  As for me, I simply love you beyond words for the quirky, smart, loving, warm, funny individual you are ~ my sister and forever friend.  True dat! Never doubt your place in life or our family.  Never doubt your specialness.  Never wonder if you are loved or cherished.  For you are, far more t...

I miss your presence ~ miss your smile, your laugh, all that is you.  I miss the way you pour my coffee in the morning and the way you take out the trash.   I miss your 'I love you'; I miss your kisses.  And deep in the night I miss the nearness of you, the comfort of your touch, your breath, your snores ~ all those things that let me know you are there, with me, beside me, protecting me from harm. Every day activities just aren't the same without you. How many thoughts come to mind, wanting to share with you, but not having you near enough to hear. I miss your presence, your essence ~ all that is you. I love you.  Return to me soon, my love.

I live to write, and write to live, my soul within does yearn; yet many fail to understand, the passion and the burn. To write emotions honestly, remorse, distress, desire; such ramblings of a poet's heart, that stem from burning fire. Say what you will, call me insane, or call me quite absurd; I listen not, for they don't know the power of the word. No one can truly comprehend, the essence of my drive; the urgency to pen sweet words, in order to survive. I write to live, and live to write, each word, necessity; to fuel this flame, my inner core, hungers for poetry.   Copyright Kristina M. Hooper, 7/18/10   ...

As many of you know, my husband and I were not blessed with children.  I have often wondered what it would be like, what our life would have been like if we had had Little Jack or Little Mella.  I'm finding out now. Two of my nieces are staying with us for the summer.  And when I say 'us', I mean me, myself, and I.  My dear husband had to leave to help family in another state, and I am now left with an 18 year old, and a 13 year old.  It is quite interesting, to say the least. May I say first and foremost that I can now appreciate my sisters much, much, more...raising children is not easy, this I have learned.  And let me remind you, my husband and I live alone.  As much as I call my kitties 'my babies', they are nothing like real children, as I am finding out (okay, okay, I already knew this, but...) I love my nieces with all my heart and I am having a great time...but I am used to quiet - you know, that thing where only me and husband are in th...

Most of my life I have been surrounded by a strong faith.  I was raised as a Roman Catholic, going to church every day, and receiving the sacraments: first holy communion, confession, and confirmation, even holy matrimony (in much later years, of course).  When I was 10, my parents became involved with the Catholic Charismatic Renewal; my life was forever changed. My parents began having weekly prayer meetings in our house.  I attended, but only because there was nothing else to do; we couldn't watch TV, we had to be quiet - so why not sing and pray?  Plus, we were adored by those attending - everyone thought it was so cute to see 'the little children' praying so fervently.  My Dad took to giving us scripture lessons at dinner - boring! He would have us memorize scriptures, sing chants, learn prayers...all this we did with loud groans and embarrassment.  No one else had to endure what we endured.  I remember the lessons my Dad gave on the Our Father ...