Monday, March 11, 2019

Gregory Goose and the Long Migration


This is a children's story I originally wrote on in March 2012, when my kids were 8 and 10. I've never shared it with anybody before...I heard a goose flying overhead today, so it seemed fitting to share it here, almost exactly 7 years after I started writing it.

                The days were getting shorter, and the air was growing cooler. The water in the pond was starting to get chilly. Fall was here, and little Gregory Goose was excited. It was time for his first migration!
                All of the adult geese were busily packing up, loading trunks and suitcases with everything they would need for the long winter. Gregory wandered among the flurry of activity, waiting excitedly and impatiently.
                “Is it time yet?” he asked eagerly in his mother’s ear.
                Mother Goose frowned. “No, Gregory. Go play with the other goslings. We’re busy.”
                Gregory kicked the ground sadly and waddled away. He turned to go find the other goslings when he spied his father. He ran as fast as he could to his father’s side, flapping his wings wildly. “Is it time yet?” he screamed.
                Father Goose signed and shook his head. “No, Gregory. Go play with the other goslings. We’re busy.”
                Gregory stomped towards the other goslings, muttering to himself. “Waiting is so BORING! When will it be time to GO?”
                The other goslings all stared at Gregory as he talked to himself. Finally, Georgie stepped forward. “What’s wrong, Gregory?”
                Gregory stomped his feet again. “Mother Goose says ‘Go play’. Father Goose says ‘Go play’. I don’t WANT to play! I want to FLY!” Gregory spun in a circle with his wings spread as wide as they could go. “I’ve been practicing all summer, and now it’s time to go, and we’re not going!”
                Georgie looked alarmed. “We’re not going?”
                Gregory shook his head. “I’m waiting and waiting and we’re still here! I don’t think we’ll EVER leave!”
                Georgie honked wildly and ran away from the group of goslings towards a cluster of geese near the pond.
                Gina stepped forward shyly. “Gregory?” she asked quietly?
                “Yeah?” Gregory said.
                “My momma said we’ll go when all the geese are done their jobs. If someone doesn’t do their job right, we will have problems.”
                Gregory sighed. “I know. I just want to fly so badly!”
                Gina smiled. “Come play a game with us.”
                The goslings all played together for a long while, taking turns playing hopscotch and trying to knock each others pebbles out of a circle.
                After a long while, Grandpa Goose honked long and loud, waiting for everyone to look at him.
                “Everybody get into formation! We’ve practiced this many times before. You all know what to do, so let’s go!”
                The geese, their backs loaded with trunks and suitcases, and the goslings all gathered into two lines, with Grandpa at the front in the middle. He started flapping his wings and one by one all of the geese and goslings followed his lead. Soon, they were in the air, and Gregory was thrilled.
                Gina flew just behind Gregory. “See?” she called up to him. “I told you we’d go if you just had patience!”
                Suddenly a squawk went up from a goose on the left leg of the V. “Oh no!” she wailed, “I forgot the towels!”
                A flutter of activity flew through the flock, and Grandpa suddenly veered sharply left and turned around. The flock followed closely behind.
                They landed back at the pond and milled around while Gertie Goose, the towel-packer, set about stuffing piles of towels into the trunk she had heaved off of her back. Gregory watched her earnestly, waiting impatiently for her to be done.
                Finally, she was done, and the flock got back in formation. They flapped and flapped and took to the air.
                The geese flew and flew, over small villages and big cities, over forests and lakes, never stopping until many hours later when they stopped at a quiet pond. All the geese and goslings took a quick swim in the refreshing water to cool down after the long flight. They gathered together and had a bite to eat, and as the sun dipped below the horizon, they settled in for the night in the clearing around the pond. Gregory tucked himself in next to Mother Goose, yawning.
                “Good night, Gregory,” Mother Goose said softly.
                Gregory closed his eyes and mumbled, “Good night, Mother Goose.” With that, he was asleep.

                When the sun rose over the new pond, the geese again got into formation quickly and took to the skies. They hadn’t been flying for long when Gregory noticed that the wrong gosling was in front of him.
                “Gina?”
                Gina, flapping furiously to keep up with the other geese, turned her head slightly. “What is it, Gregory?” she asked, clearly annoyed at the distraction.
                “Where’s Georgie?”
                “What do you mean, where’s Georgie? He’s right…” Gina, startled, missed a flap of her wings, almost causing Gregory to slam into her. “Oh no!” she howled.
                Older geese around them turned to see what the commotion was all about.
                “What is it?”
                “What’s going on?”
                “Who said that?”
                “What’s the problem?”
                Gina was sobbing. “Georgie’s not with us! He must still be at the last pond!”
                The message passed up the line from goose to gander and finally to Grandpa Goose, who once again veered sharply left and turned around, the flock following closely behind.
                Soon, the pond was in sight. Gregory could see a gosling running frantically back and forth, flapping his wings desperately. Grandpa Goose’s booming voice rang out, “Georgie!” The gosling suddenly stopped and looked up. He started jumping in excitement when he recognized his flock.
                They landed, retaining their formation. Georgie quickly got into place in front of Gregory, and they were off again, flapping furiously to rise high in the sky in their V formation.

                Hours and hours later, they arrived at another pond. The water here was slightly warmer, but still cooled them down nicely after a long flight. The sun set again and all the geese and goslings drifted off to sleep.
                In the morning, a flurry of activity rushed around the pond as everybody readied themselves for the final leg of their trip. When they were in formation, everybody double-checked to make sure they were between the right people. They flapped and flapped and up they flew, ready for the long day ahead of them.
                They’d been flying for a few hours when Greta Goose dropped out of formation. Curious looks were exchanged. Greta turned slowly around and called over her shoulder, “I left the blankets back at the last pond!”
                Grandpa Goose sighed loudly and turned around to follow Greta, the flock following them both. After a few hours, they made it back to the pond. Greta quickly gathered up the blankets and loaded them into her trunk. When she was done, she took her place back in the formation, blushing deeply. They took to the air again, but only after making absolutely sure that everyone and everything was accounted for. Grandpa Goose, getting grumpy at all of the delays, took off quickly, barely allowing the rest of the flock to catch up to him.
                Because of the delay, the flock flew into the night, pushing on despite being tired to reach their winter home. Finally, deep into the night, they arrived at a lush warm pond with lovely grassy areas around it. As they settled in to sleep, Gregory looked around. “It was a good trip, Mother Goose,” he said.
                Mother Goose nodded. “Yes it was, Gregory. Now, you go to sleep. We have a long day of unpacking in the morning. You’ll be expected to help.”
                “Okay, Mother Goose.” Gregory yawned widely and nuzzled his beak into Mother Goose’s side. He was content to finally be at their winter home, and floated away into sleepy dreams.

Sunday, February 17, 2019

The colours have all gone

Its hard for anybody who hasn't dealt with it to understand, and it's hard to understand what anybody else deals with even if you have dealt with it.

It being mental illness.

3 days ago, I was manic. I had been manic for 3.5 weeks.

I've been depressed since Friday.

I'm not used to this.

I'm not used to being in one mood for more than a day, for more than a few hours. I am usually rapid cycling, up to 12 times in a day.

This depression hit hard and fast. I cried all day Friday and most of Saturday, and now I've hit a state of almost total anhedonia (an inability to experience pleasure). I'm not enjoying anything anymore. I have music on, but only to get me out of my head. It's starting to annoy me more than anything right now.

At least I'm not crying.

Thursday, February 14, 2019

Our first Valentine's Day

I adore you.
Cuz you don't care where I came from.
Just kiss me, in the dark while my lips are numb.
And I love, every inch of you and then some, and then some, and then some.

(Arkells - And Then Some)

I got to spend a good chunk of today with Dawson on our first Valentine's Day as a couple. It soothes my soul just to be beside him. Nobody has ever made me feel as at ease as he does. Unfortunately, he had to work, and I had an appointment, so our visit was cut shorter than either of us would have liked.

Neither of us had money for physical gifts this year. So, this post is my gift to him... I feel like it's nowhere near enough, though... you see, Dawson has a batshit crazy girlfriend. And this superstar of a man hasn't blinked even once in the past 9.5 months at anything I have thrown at him. He has such a generous heart that even when he is struggling, he will ask me how I am doing, and worries about me. I sometimes really feel like I don't deserve him. I fuckin' love him so much I wanna shout it to the world!!!

And Dawson, Happy Valentine's Day. I love you.

Monday, January 14, 2019

Monday Minisaga: Part The Second

The agony was relentless. Everything was. Yet Melissa did not cry out. She would keep this secret in silence.

Her sister could never find out what they had done. This was her atonement. This would ensure that Ashley never found out what she and Caleb did.

Tuesday, December 11, 2018

Monday Minisaga: Part The First


Serendipity.

Melissa never knew if she believed in fate, kismet, all that bullshit, until she picked up the phone. It was nobody special, just her little sister.
“Oh, hey Lis. I, huh… I meant to call Caleb’s phone.”
Melissa froze. She pulled the phone away from her face.
It was her brother-in-law’s phone.

Serendipity.

Saturday, December 8, 2018

Untitled Poem

This mask I present is just that
a mask
It's my real face but
what happens behind it
is the truth
not what you see.
Behind these eyes
I'm crying
but no tears are falling
on my cheeks.
There's a radio playing
in the back of my head
constantly
3 songs on repeat and
a playlist of hundreds of others.
Always music.
No getting away from it.
No escape.
It spins me around
messes with my head
Whose radio am I listening to?
Why are they doing this?
My mask has some cracks.
I don't know how much longer
I can hold it together.
If it breaks completely
it will be me who cracks next.
I'm not prepared for that.

© Alison Insco 2018

Thursday, November 15, 2018

It's a good day to be me

So, I have a new diagnosis, and one that isn’t entirely surprising to me.

No, we won’t start there.

Fuck this.

Today, I have had my first really real good day in weeks. But, like all days, it’s had its bleak moments. There’s never a day without some shade. But shade isn’t necessarily a bad thing. It just means the light is shining from a different angle. I just need to reframe how I’m looking at things, try a different angle.

I started a new medication last night. I didn’t expect anything; meds take time to take effect, after all. It put me to sleep within 45 minutes of taking it, and I woke up feeling refreshed and awake and not groggy and hung over. I slept 7.5 hours, only waking once, and while I know I had dreams, I don’t remember them, but I seem to feel like they were pleasant.

Tonight, I’m still good, but the length of the day is wearing on me. I have hope, though, that tomorrow will be just as good.

I’m keeping track of where I’m at with meds, increases, decreases, new meds, discontinuations… I know my doctor has it all in his computer, but the hard data doesn’t include the feelings behind the reasons for the changes. So, I keep my own record.

I’m taking a break from my NaNoWriMo project. It was causing me far too much emotional distress to continue with it right now. I’ll either write blog posts or start on something fictional to finish out the last half of the month. I’m behind by a few days at this point; I’ve never been this far behind before in all the years I’ve been participating. I guess there’s a first time for everything. It’s kind of amazing how just putting words to paper can afflict our minds in the most devastating manner. I want to finish this project, more than anything, but my mental health is priority number one. I can’t let it drag me down as far as it had, so I either need to approach it very carefully, which is difficult at best, or just set it aside until I can actually maneuver through it safely without setting off any mental landmines.

I do not know if either will ever actually happen.