Farewell Jet

On March 4th, 2019 I had to say goodbye to my cat Jet. I got him three months after I moved to Orlando. The adoption paper said he was eight weeks old but a vet later comfirmed he was only four weeks old. I hand raised him and I had him for fifteen years.

Those years were also some of the most turbulent years of my life. I struggled with work and school, never having enough money, and horrible roommates. Relationships fell apart, jobs closed without warning. By the time I was 35 I had moved nine times and I had juggled two jobs since I had graduated college. In my world of general chaos he was often the only consistency I had to hold on to.

Enjoying the peace in the first apartment that we had all to ourselves.

When he became the big brother for Kobi.

He loved to cuddle with me; especially on cold mornings.

The 10 year anniversay of his adoption.

Sometimes I would take warm towels from the dryer and lay them on his bed. He would purr up a storm.

I loved the look on his face when I upgraded his bed.

But he always loved to curl up in my arms.

When my parents bought me a couch he thought it was his new cat bed and claimed it for himself.

After I rescued the stray he became a big brother again. All three of them always got along so well.

I took this photo the day I moved into my condo. Jax and Kobi were anxious but Jet was an old pro.

I finally had a place were he could lay out in the sun.

A short while after we moved in his health began declining.

But he would wait by the window for me to come home everyday.

I loved his silly little faces.

My best friend Rochelle had graciously offered to go to the vet with me. She didn’t want me to go alone. But it had been me and him for so long that it was something that I had to do without anyone else. 

Curled up in my arms on last time.

I was holding him when he slipped away.

Amidst the endless upheaval we were the only constants in each others lives. He had been with me through some of the darkest years of my life and it was devastating to loose him right at the point where I felt I was gaining some stability. I had so many friends reach out to comfort me. They all loved him too. 

I am forever gratful for our time together and all the love that he represents.

My Sweet Boy 

October 2nd, 2004 - March 4th, 2019

The Green Dress

In the SCA, one needs time period appropriate garb to attend events. For the longest time all I had was the blue tunic from Tim and the black dress I had borrowed for the renaissance faire that Melissa had given to me. I loved them both but I had yet to have something truely of my own. I sat down one day and came up with four sketches for dresses I wanted to make. Seth, one of the heavy fighters, agreed to help me make a dress. He learned how to sew from his mother and carried that love from making halloween customes into making his own garb for the SCA. He was going to help me make the simplest dress; the green dress. 

When it came down to getting the fabric we found a bed sheet from Goodwill that we would use for the under dress. Serendipitously, Vicky - another fencer, had fabric she wanted to give me. I met her at her house and she gave me the lovely stack of wool. She expressed concern that I wouldn’t like the color. I laughed and told her that the dress I was making was green. 

With all the pieces in place Seth went to work. 

The serenity in this photo belies the fact that he was blasting death metal.

Photo by Seth Fleury

He even modeled it on himself.

When I finally got to try on the dress I was thrilled.

It looked just like my sketch. It reminded me of the sketchbooks I used to have in high school, all filled with characters in lovely dresses. Even when I was little I used to love to play dress up. I would come to the dinner table wearing the prettiest dresses I could find. Throughout the majority of my childhood I wanted to be a princess for Halloween. As I grew into an adult dress up became something that was less and less practical. All my dresses and designs became pages in sketchbooks; concepts for outfits I would never touch. 

But to have this dress felt deeply fullfiling. I was a kid indulging in dress up all over again. I felt like a princess. One of my sketches literally come to life. Able to connect with a childhood dream. Vicky and Seth had helped make it happen. My first SCA outfit; the green dress. 

The Forgotten Path

The trail of a climbing plant still remains long after the vine was remove.

Trident

My journey with fencing as well as the Society for Creative Ananchromism began in February 2018. As I approached the one year mark I was encouraged by my trainer Tim to become officially authorized to fence at events. For the majority of the year I had been running drills and fighting against fellow fencers at practice. Becoming authorized, knowing the rules of fencing and being proven to be a safe fighter, would allow me to fence at SCA events. 

Late in 2018 I had volunteered at the Lady of the Lakes Renaissance Faire through the SCA. I had not been authorized to fight at the time so I was able to do everything except participate in fencing demonstrations. 

Tim, in the spirit of fairness, doesn’t not authorize people that he trains. I would have to be authorized by someone else of high rank. One event at the end of January would be my opportunity: Trident. 

Trident was an event held in Ocala that would feature heavy fighting, fencing, and arts. Ryan, a fellow fencer was kind enough to let me ride up with him. Ryan filled the drive up with an interesting array of music, from Italian love song to silly songs about fictional restaurants that only serve meat. Although I was in a good mood, I was hurting. I had gotten my period that morning. I was doing my best not to let it show, but I was already tired. 

When we got the event I was grabbing my gear out of the back seat when a follow fencer Davius (Micheal) had ran up to me from behind to give me a playful scare. He was followed by Seth, a heavy fighter from our group who was retrieving something from his car. Seth was chewing gum which helps him remember to breathe during a fight. Once he got what he came for he bounded back to the fighting with childlike enthusiasm you could see despite his heavy armor. 

After Giovanni (Ryan) and I checked in we changed into our garb. Everyone was dressed like they were from the Middle Ages or the Renaissance. We leave the mundane world behind and step back in time. Heavy fighters in full suits of armor were already pounding on to each other’s shields with loud cracks as eager competitors waited for their turn. Small children running in the field nearby and the smell of hearty soup was coming from the great hall. The fencers were beginning to gather at a picnic table towards the edge of the field. 

Chlothar (Tim) was there and I got to meet several other fencers who had traveled in from out of town for the event. He suggested I have Matthias (Todd) authorize me. I had meet Matthias (Todd) only twice before. Once at the Mermaid’s Faire back in July (which was my first event with the SCA), and once when he came to our Wednesday night practice. He was no-nonsense, direct, and very professional. It got off to a rough start. 

I stood in front of him not knowing what to expect. My hands behind my back, shoulders straight, chin up; ready to be tested. 

“Did you read the rules?” 

My heart dropped with my shoulders “...No”

“Ok” he said calmly. “This concludes the authorization for now. Come back when you have read the rules” 

Luckily Giovanni (Ryan) always carries a printed copy of the rules in his gear bag. He handed me a stack of papers that took me a considerable amount of time to read. Thirty two pages of rules, conventions, weapons, parrying devices, and protective gear. I came back to Matthias determined but nervous. He asked questions and I fumbled through the answers. I was tired, overwhelmed, and nervous. Then he had me fight another fencer whom I’d never met before to see how I would react in a fight. Matthias (Todd) would set the perimeters for the rounds. At first the other fencer would attack and I would have to defend myself, other rounds I was told to attack while the other fencer assumed a defensive position. Matthias (Todd) could see that I was nervous. At one point between rounds he pulled me aside and told me that it was ok if I didn’t get authorized the first time around. I walked back to my position and put my fencing mask back on. I took a deep breath as I watched Matthias (Todd) formulate the next exercise with the other fencer across the field. “Oh God” I thought “I’m not going to get authorized and he’s just trying to let me down easy”. Tears began streaming down my cheek. I didn’t dare remove my mask to wipe them away. I tried to calm myself with deep breaths. The other fencer took his position. Matthias (Todd) approached me and said “For this exercise I want to see you use your left hand to block a shot”. I grounded my feet into my stance and pointed my sword at my opponent. We went a few more rounds and I took a few more hits. I know the object was to flight well, not to win, but I was struggling. Matthias (Todd) and the other fencer broke off to deliberate. After several agonizing moments I was waved over. I walked slowly towards Matthias (Todd) taking one more deep breath before removing my mask. 

“Ok” he said with his calm, characteristic poker face. “I will authorize you”.

I was in grateful disbelief.

We set out signing the paperwork. One of the other fencers suggested that I enter into the fencing tournament that was going on that day. I was still trying to gather myself after the authorization process but I decided to jump in. We clustered around the picnic table and waited for the heavy fighters to finish their tournament. I was overjoyed at being authorized but didn’t now what I would be getting into. I had never even seen a fencing tournament. 

Seraphina (Fionnula), a fellow fencer, was overseeing the matches. We would be fighting “round robin” style. One fencer would enter the ring and take turns fighting the other fencers. Then the next fencer would enter the ring and take turns fighting all the other fencers. Everyone would have fought everyone twice once everything was all said and done. The matches would go according to rank, and since I was the newest authorized fighter, I would be first in the ring. 

I fought nine matches in a row. Most of the men I had never fought before. It was difficult because I had to jump in without knowing anything about their fighting styles until they were swinging at me. Some fought with secondary weapons I had never seen before. I lost match after match. I was tired, unsure of myself, and loosing confidence. My last match of the first round was with Tim. He entered the ring and I took another deep breath to gather myself. He was a formidable opponent dressed in black. Although he was a kind teacher I braced myself for another fight. It was tradition to salute your opponent at the beginning of each match. Before I could even salute Tim he was walking towards me. He wrapped his arms around me and gave me a big hug. When he told me I was doing fine it almost brought me to tears again. 

My match with Chlothar (Tim).  Photo by Nancy Nguyen.

I fought Tim and lost. As my first round of matches came to an end I was emotionally and physically exhausted. I was only half way through. I worked hard at learning fencing for a year and I had just gotten authorized. I desperately wanted to make it to the end but I was struggling. I refused to sit because I didn’t want to get too comfortable. I wouldn’t remove my mask because of the tears. I took more deep breaths to center myself. As the other fighters got ready for their turn in the ring I knew that it was unlikely I would win any of the matches. But I was always taught that winning wasn’t everything. Learning how to control your movements, as well as your opponents, was key. If I couldn’t win, I could focus more on control. My goal became to stay in control longer. I entered the other rounds with a new sense of purpose. 

One fight in particular stood out. Robert was a very experienced fencer who I had met a few times before. As our match began he opted only for his sword even though he knew I was fighting with sword and dagger. I knew he was confident with one weapon because I was a relatively new fighter. I wanted to make him second guess that decision. I fought more defensively in our first match but with my regained confidence I fought more aggressively. Twice the marshall had to call “hold” during our match because I backed him to the edge of the field. Ultimately, Robert won the match but that was my longest fight. It helped me feel like I had gotten closer to my goal of being in control. 

At the end of it all I hadn’t won a single match. I was tired, sore, and feeling a little fragile, but I had made it to the end. Afterwards a lot of the other fighters made it a point to congratulate me. Seraphina (Fionnula) presented me with a small ribbion with colorful beads. She wanted to give me something to commemorate my first tournament. During the court meeting in the evening the Baron and Baroness were giving out awards and recognitions when a man knelt down beside my chair. He offered me two brass bracelets and went on to explain that it was Viking tradition to bestow rings to someone who acted bravely. He wanted me to have them and he encouraged me to keep fighting. 

I thought it was because I was the only woman in the competition. In the year since I had had started fencing everyone had always been so supportive. I thanked the gentleman and took the bracelets as a souvenir of my first tourament.

At home that night I prouldly laid my gear across the table. My sword and dagger were from Christian, the helmet was from Davius (Micheal), the hat was from Seth, the ribbon from Seraphina (Fionnula), I had the braclets I was given and the belt token with the Trident symbol.

It wasn’t until the following Wednesday until I realized what I had done. At practice Tim asked me how I thought I had done at Trident. I told him that I was glad that I had gotten authorized but I was so-so on my fighting in the tournament. 

Tim looked at me with raised eyebrows “I don’t think you realized what you did” 

I looked back at him, confused.

“You had just been authorized and that was your first tournament. Most tournaments have only about 4-5 people. This tournament had 9 people and of those 9, half were of high rank. You also had to fight everyone twice - that’s 18 fights! And you went the whole way though.” 

Jake, who is the Baron and high ranking fencer himself, overheard the conversation. He came over to corroborate with Tim. “I’ve been fighting a long time” he said “and I don’t think I could have done what you did.” 

I was floored. I knew I fought hard to make it to the end but I didn’t realize I had done so much. That was why everyone had been so encouraging towards me. I thought back to all the gear I had displayed on my table. Everything had been given to me by someone who wanted me to succeed. Even the blue tunic I had worn that day was borrowed from Tim. I took all the love and support I was given and jumped into the fight. I fought against my own body, my emotions, and people I had never met before. I was new and I battled until the end. 

The Watering Can

The charming little watering can from my sister’s backyard.

Baby Snail

The tiniest baby snail on my patio railing.

The Burn

It always starts off slow. Eyes glassy from holding back tears, taking measured breaths in an attempt to slow my pounding heart. The burn that spreads across my chest. 

I never asked for the moon and the stars, just a hand to hold and someone who would choose me. But the wrong people can make the simplest things feel like the most mystical treasures from the farthest, most unreachable corners of the galaxy. I am your prodigal daughter screaming into your perfectly crafted void. 

You gave me this voice, why does it only echo?

How many times had you seen me cry myself to sleep? I always felt you there but completely silent. Neither condemning nor comforting. 

I thought I had done everything right but my existence feels like punishment. If I was made to love and be loved why do you see fit to have me be alone? Why was I made to be wasted? 

Everyone has this fairytale lens in which they see you. If I fold my hands respectfully, ask politely, and click my heels three times; I’ll be granted my heart’s desires simply because I believed. But even when I was younger I never wanted to see you as merely the granter of wishes. I wanted to trust that you knew what was best for me. 

But recent years have pulled out a fight in me that I would have thought unimaginable in my youth. I never once had the delusion that my life would be easy, but this prolonged and painful struggle has left me fragile and exhausted in ways I’m normally too embarrassed to admit. 

Over and over I had to endure horrible mistreatment by those who had once been closest to me. Everyone who engages in this abusive pattern of behavior seems exempt from Karma. I miss the days when kindness was an even exchange. Now I create it just to give it away. My biggest regret was that I didn’t move on fast enough. Surely my lesson cannot be to isolate myself, but to go on fighting feels hopeless. I have all too often had to muddle through those dark days when the nicest person was often a stranger. 

So here again I stand, trying to pull the daggers from my heart. 

You gave me this will, why does it push me from you? 

You gave me this heart, why does it crack so easily? 

You gave me all this love, which I am unable to contain, yet has no route to take.

I know you don’t play favorites. I just wanted to feel like I mattered. Like this suffering has a purpose. 

My eyes glassy from holding back tears, taking measured breaths in an attempt to slow my pounding heart. The familiar burn that spreads across my chest.

I am your prodigal daughter standing on the edge of your perfectly crafted void.