#MusicMonday- Cat’s In the Cradle #harrychapin


Photo by: pixabay.com Edited by: Pamela Hester

There is something about folk music that always makes me feel some kind of way. Perhaps it’s the nostalgia of it and the deep meaning behind the lyrics of those songs. The type of music that isn’t played much these days—that I know of.

Cats In The Cradle is a folk song sung by Harry Chapin. It is also written by him and his wife, Sandy. This song has been one of those songs that had lived on in nearly everyone’s hearts. It’s a song about a father wanting to spend more time with his son, but the demands of life make it hard for him to be the father he wants to be. And when he does find the time, it is much later in his life, and then his son doesn’t have the time or can’t find the time to spend with his father.

The lyrics are true because there are times when we (or we know someone who) are so busy with life that we/they don’t seem to find the time to spend with our/their significant other, family, or friends.

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The love for our family, friends, or what have you, isn’t weigh or tested by how much we spend time with them. It is finding the time for the certain ones who are worthy of our time. Though for a child, sometimes, it can be hard for a parent to find the time to spend with their child(ren) because most are so busy working because we want to give them the best life possible.

We have to remember that time waits for no one. Time is something we all can’t get back. Not everyone deserves our precious time, but the ones that do deserve to spend as much time as possible while we are still alive.

LYRICS:

[Verse 1]
My child arrived just the other day
He came to the world in the usual way
But there were planes to catch and bills to pay
He learned to walk while I was away
And he was talkin’ ‘fore I knew it, and as he grew
He’d say “I’m gonna be like you, Dad
You know I’m gonna be like you”

[Chorus]
And the cat’s in the cradle and the silver spoon
Little boy blue and the man in the moon
When you comin’ home, Dad
I don’t know when, but we’ll get together then
You know we’ll have a good time then

[Verse 2]
My son turned ten just the other day
He said, “Thanks for the ball, Dad, come on let’s play
Can you teach me to throw”, I said “Not today
I got a lot to do”, he said, “That’s okay”
And he walked away but his smile never dimmed
And said, “I’m gonna be like him, yeah
You know I’m gonna be like him”

[Chorus]
And the cat’s in the cradle and the silver spoon
Little boy blue and the man on the moon
When you comin’ home, Dad
I don’t know when, but we’ll get together then
You know we’ll have a good time then

[Verse 3]
Well, he came from college just the other day
So much like a man I just had to say
“Son, I’m proud of you, can you sit for a while”
He shook his head and then said with a smile
“What I’d really like, Dad, is to borrow the car keys
See you later, can I have them please”

[Chorus]
And the cat’s in the cradle and the silver spoon
Little boy blue and the man on the moon
When you comin’ home son
I don’t know when, but we’ll get together then, Dad
You know we’ll have a good time then

[Verse 4]
I’ve long since retired, my son’s moved away
I called him up just the other day
I said, “I’d like to see you if you don’t mind”
He said, “I’d love to, Dad, if I can find the time
You see my new job’s a hassle and the kid’s got the flu
But it’s sure nice talking to you, Dad
It’s been sure nice talking to you”
And as I hung up the phone it occurred to me
He’d grown up just like me
My boy was just like me

[Chorus]
And the cat’s in the cradle and the silver spoon
Little boy blue and the man on the moon
When you comin’ home son
I don’t know when, but we’ll get together then, Dad
We’re gonna have a good time then

Lyrics Source: Genius.com

Songwriters: Sandy Chapin / Harry F. Chapin
Cat’s in the Cradle lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc
Release Date: October 1st, 1974
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What does time when it comes to our loved ones mean to you?

 

Tell Me Now, Don’t Hold Back #MondayBlogs #fiction


Continued from I Knew It Was Too Good To Be True.

“Where is she? Something’s up with her, and I’m not leaving until she answers my questions.” Genevieve stood tall with her arms crossed and chin high in the air.

Before I could protest, her guard pulls out his .45 semiautomatic Glock in my direction. Damn!

https://pixabay.com

I stared back at Genevieve’s guard, his gun, then at her. So, it has come to this? I’ve been here, working my ass off to pay off a debt I hadn’t started in the first place, and a gun is pointed in my damn face.

“What the hell? What’s going on?” I said in a rush, trying to keep my voice down. I would hate for my client to be frightened. Then I remembered Genevieve had mentioned her upon entering.

“Kevin, we need to speak to your client. It will only take a moment,” Genevieve explained as she stood tall, glaring at me like I did something wrong.

I was taken aback because normally, she wouldn’t behave in this manner. The normalcy of her personality when it comes to women is extreme jealousy. Right now, I cannot diagnose the problem even if someone serves it on a fine china platter.

“Something I should kn-“

“Just call her out. It’s urgent,” Genevieve said, pointing in the direction of my bathroom.

I blinked. Just as I turned around, she ambles out with a lavender terry-cloth robe wrapped tightly around her body. A white towel is draped over her left shoulder as she used one end to dry her hair.

“So, what normally happens after-” her words trailed on as she noticed someone other than us in the room. Her green eyes fixated on Genevieve and then her guard with his Glock dangling from his right hand.

She appeared undisturbed; in fact, in her eyes held a challenging stare like she is prepared for a duel.

“Look, Tracey, I need for you to verify something for me, for security reasons,” Genevieve said, walking up to her.

“Okay, but it make it quick. I didn’t pay to be interrogated, so whatever you have to say, say it now or knock off a hundred dollars of the money I gave you upon arriving,” Tracey replied defiantly.

Genevieve gave her a long stare that said, “don’t go there with me.”


“I don’t know what that was all about, but Genny normally doesn’t act that way,” I assured Tracey, taking her hand and leading her to my cream-colored chaise lounge.

She quietly followed behind me and sat even quieter as I gazed into her eyes. She looks back at me with this expression I couldn’t pinpoint. No one wants to discuss Genevieve and her pitbull of a guard, and their unknown reason for busting in the way they had.

To be honest, I’m not sure if I can carry on with tonight with the usual stuff like I would with any client. This particular one here, still staring at me like she’s peering deep into my soul, frazzled me to the core.

I carefully traced the outline of her hand, feeling the heat radiating from her igniting; it warmed me up. She leans forward, and I took that moment to kiss her soft lips.

The moment felt so right, perfect timing, as our lips meshed. I used one hand to snake around her waist pulling her closer to me, while the other caresses her face and slender neck. Her ruby-red fingernails raked through the small hairs on my chest sending shock waves to my system.

All past apprehensions seemed to have melted away. She moans softly, bringing the kiss deeper. I’m thinking she wants this. Whatever she wants, it’s her night.

However, as I reach for the belt of her robe to open it, she alarmingly jerked back. Her eyes widen. She went stocked still. The color drained from her face leaving me in utter shock.

What’s wrong now? I wondered. I couldn’t believe we are back to being estranged.

“What is it now?” I asked, trying not to sound impatient. It is becoming unbearable to think you’re sure about something, feel it deep within yourself just to have it slapped you across the face.

Tracey stood up, muttering as she did so, trying to form the right words to tell me whatever it was that kept her hostage since she first arrived here.

“Tell me now what you want to say, and don’t hold back,” I demanded.

“Okay, okay. I’m a private investigator hired by your parents to find you,” she explained, appearing relieved.

My what did what now? I pondered the thought.

By: Pamela E. Hester ©2017

This concludes Part 3. Thank you for being patient with me as I write this post. I’m thinking of writing Part 4, but we’ll see. 😉

 

I Knew It Was Too Good To Be True #MondayBlogs #fiction


Continued from Tell Me What You Came Here For.

I glimpsed quickly at Genevieve, who forks an eyebrow, gazed back at this strange woman, and in a low, deep voice, I seductively said,

“Tell me what you came here for,” stroking the middle of her palm.

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She continued to stare at me, carefully; watchful eyes never leaving my face. I waited patiently on her answer to my question. My signature question for all clients was told so many times; however, I’ve managed to make each one feel equally special.

That line was about as tired as I am. There are only so many ways you can say a particular line. It’s not just for doing my job; it’s who and how I am.
Before I could open my mouth again, Genevieve speaks up.

“As I had mentioned, Kevin will take excellent care of you. He comes highly recommended. You will be taken wonderful care of. Have fun!” Genevieve explained to this medium-build woman who refuses to utter a word since they walked up to me. She left us with a concerned expression and a smile that didn’t quite reach her amber eyes.

The woman intently watched Genevieve leave for a moment, turned to me, and said,
“Well, Kevin, I’m sure you live up to the name they called you here.” Oh, what name? I wondered. “I’ll feel more comfortable once we’re upstairs and away from prying eyes and ears.” Oh, so she does talk.

“Sure.” I see what she meant. Genevieve and her guards are watching us… too carefully. I nodded their way. Genevieve raised her glass; her usual gin and tonic. She forked an arched eyebrow in question, and I slightly shrugged.

“Would you like a drink now or prefer to have one in my room?” I asked the woman, noting how she kept watched on Genevieve from the corner of her left eye. There was a passing glint that nearly nerved me as if she detested Genevieve for something I couldn’t quite place my finger on.

“Oh sure, in your room. Thanks for asking.” She blinked and started walking towards the stairwell. I grabbed her bags and lead the way.
In my room, she glances around at the decor. Hues of reds and beige colors filled the room with an ambiance of romance and warmth; even so, with an overall cozy feeling.

“Very impressive!” She said, moving over to the cherry oak armoire.

“Thanks,” I told her. “Here you go.” I handed her a pineapple and vodka concoction she mentioned on the way up here.
She mumbled thanks and wrapped an arm around her slim waist. She appeared out of place the way she stood rocking from foot to foot, shaking her glass to the point the liquid was sure to spill out. I reached out to take it from her.

“Can’t have you ruining such a beautiful outfit, nor a new carpet,” I told her. She grins sheepishly.

“Tell me about yourself,” I asked, pouring a drink for myself. I turned around from the wet bar and saw her checking out the bed.

“Plenty of time for that later,” I joked to make light of things. When she didn’t laugh, I let out a low sigh. There was something odd about her. It wasn’t for the fact she was nervous about being up here with me and what’s going to take place. No, she strikes me as if she was an undercover agent, or something. I’m determined to get to the bottom of it.

She eyed me in a way that spoke of confusion… and disgust, maybe. While she collects her thoughts, I busied myself with my mixed music playlist, setting it to smooth jazz. Acoustic Alchemy’s Jamaica Heartbeat serenaded through the Bose speakers.

Now, that I’ve gotten her attention, I reached for her hand, inviting her to dance with me. She hesitated at first, then place a small hand in mines. We sway, spin, and gyrated our hips, slightly bumping into each other. She laughs, then suddenly, pulled away.

“I-uh… I need a bath. It has been a long day.” She says, looking somewhat embarrassed. I watched her grabbed items from her bag like she was mad at it, and dashed into my walk-in closet.

“The bathroom is this way,” I pointed towards the left, to a door that was slightly ajar, trying not to laugh.

She avoided looking at me as she went inside. I chuckled softly at her embarrassment, but it was cut short when there was a loud knock at my door.

“Kevin! Open up, now!” Genevieve yells through the door.

“What is it?” I asked. She had her bulldog of a guard with her while the other stood back near the stairs.

“Where is she? Something’s up with her, and I’m not leaving until she answers my questions.” Genevieve stood tall with her arms crossed and chin high in the air.

Before I could protest, her guard pulls out his .45 semiautomatic Glock in my direction. Damn!

Stay tuned for Part 3 next week. Thanks for reading.🌹

By: Pamela E. Hester ©2017

Love: To Be or Not to Be


What’s the definition of love? Love is an emotion and a strong affection and personal attachment. Love is also said to be a virtue representing all of human kindness, compassion, and affection —”the unselfish loyal and benevolent concern for the good of another”. With that being said, why have some of us fail to manage to do something so elementary?

Years ago, I thought I knew what love really means.  I may or may not truly know what it “feels” like, but I have learned to love who I am. Because self-love feels good and who can love you better than you love yourself.

There may be people who may do something nice for you or even carry out a plan to show their gratitude for what you have done for them, but is it truly love? Some will love you only if you are doing things for them. And some just may be genuine.

Let’s talk about relationships. When you are in a relationship with this person you feel very much passionate about, is it love or is it really lust? What brought the two of you together? What were the person’s characteristics? Some of us waste no time jumping into a relationship because we “felt” something for the other person. Our heart’s desire clouding us with something that can be so deceitful. But, love can also be a beautiful thing.

To be love can take on something so extraordinary.  Especially when one is in a romantic relationship. In an article I read,  it says  “during the initial stages of a romantic relationship, there is more often more emphasis on emotions—especially those of loveintimacy, compassionappreciation, and affinity—rather than physical intimacy.”

I agree with that statement.  Why do you think there’s more emphasis on emotions, as well as the above? It’s because when you’re in a romantic relationship, those are the criteria necessary for a productive romance, but is that all? I have known a lot of people who said that they had all of those criteria, but their relationship/marriage didn’t last. I have always wondered what went wrong. Sometimes, the person may have become bored with the relationship or with the person. It’s exhausting as you have to always innovate, do something new, upgrade maybe.

Sometimes, we get comfortable, too comfortable, and settle into a routine. Don’t settle into a routine. And, definitely don’t settle when it comes to the bedroom either.  You have to spice things up. Give your lover something so unexpected that it will blow their mind. Okay. I won’t go into details-you get the picture. But, if they supposedly say they love you, they will make things work. Moreover, it shouldn’t be  just when especially when it boils down to love-making.

Empathy, love, trust, compassion, growth, appreciation, etc are the ones that should stay strong in a romantic relationship. Physical intimacy comes last, because if that’s all you have, instead of the others, then it’s not romance. Not in a relationship or marriage. But, if you and your lover are cool with just being sex buddies or whatever, then do what works for you.

To not be love or loving, you’re in a state of mind when none of the above, excluding physical intimacy, doesn’t matter to you. Either, you have been hurt, emotionally damaged, etc., you want to be free of emotions and all that comes with it. You’re healing from the inside. Perhaps, love isn’t something you seek, like, or want.

For me, I rather give myself time and just do whatever makes me happy. I have gone through where people have shown their true colors and lost my trust. Hurt, betrayal, and lies come to mind. It is better to focus on the betterment of your life and growth than to wait on that fairy tale Prince Charming that’s coming to save you-or not.

It’s a healing process and requires time. Give yourself that time. It’s worth it. Trust me, I know.

Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.

 

intimacya feeling of being intimate and belonging togetherMore (Definitions, Synonyms, Translation)

Tell Me What You Came Here For #amwriting #MondayBlogs #fiction


Passion comes by the dozen. On the other hand, make that four. Love, one in a million.

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Her. It started with her. She took full advantage of me, and I allowed her to. I was too young, naive, and innocent, wanted to experience what love is like. Though, she left me confused, sad, angry, even; yet, took my heart and haven’t given it back. Nine months later, a baby girl was placed in my arms by my parents telling me she’s my daughter.

I didn’t even know when she was born, let alone conceived. I was fifteen and in college then. Yeah, I started college at a young age and became a father around the same time. So, to my understanding, we’re going to just sweep how my daughter was conceived under the rug? At this moment, I can’t… I’m feeling suffocated by…

(Shuddering.)

🔸🔹🔸🔹🔸🔹🔸🔹

I gaze out through the bay window, waiting for my “shift” to end. Unpleasant memories are back torturing me. I’m twenty-four years old now, not fifteen. The day is nearing an end. I’m not particularly considering another client to walk through the door requesting for my time… and services at this hour; however, I’m known for clients to strut in as late as 10:00 p.m. It’s 8:30 now on this dreary evening and all I really wanted is to sleep. I sighed.

I moved away from the window, taking in the other guys sprawled out throughout the living room, the getting-to-know room, I like to call it, where our clients and we can become acquainted. They are entertaining the women, having a joyous time, sipping wine, and swaying to slow jazz.

Some of them appeared interested in tonight’s episode of enticement; I’m sure, while a few including me are ready to turn in for the night. Unlike me, the few already have their rooms occupied with someone waiting for them.

“Kevin, you want a drink?” Someone called out to ask me.
I turned swiftly and saw that it was Ash walking my way with a shot glass filled already. Oh yeah, filled my glass first without asking me, I thought sarcastically. The last time someone had done that, I ended up here, against my will!

“No, dude! An already-filled glass ready? Um, no, you know I don’t go for that!” I exploded. He knew not to do that. It’s kind of hard keeping my anxiety down living here. The majority of the guys think they are living the dream, while I am secretly planning on ways to leave this bewildering place.

“Oh, alright, damn,” He scurried away, mocking my agitated face.

Squatting on a barstool to calm my nerves, staring over at the new décor in the lavish, spacious adjoining room Madame Genevieve furnished a month ago, I am in awe. She finally managed to change the previous dreadful look that made me sickened by it. This new look… wow!

She went with an Egyptian theme of ivory, red, and black colors with decorations that are in the form of the head of the Sphinx, animal figurines, wall paintings, all the works; she has definitely done well. It was probably purchased with my money since I made her the most money than all the guys here. Hmm…no wonder she won’t let me leave.

“Are you booked tonight, Kev?” Brian asked, knocking his knuckles against the wooden table to get Sam, the bartender’s attention.

“Nope. Hopefully, I’ll stay unbooked. These women are tiring me out,” I told him, taking in a breath, reflecting back to a beautiful Latin woman named Marissa. She really knows how to have a good time. Whatever happened to her?

“Really? I find that hard to believe. An attractive Italian-Native American guy like you with all the works… you got it going on man, you’d graduated from a four-year Ivy League college at the age of nineteen. Man- oh, thanks, Sam. What was I talking about?” Brian leaned toward me, scrunching up his forehead. He’s so confused it made me feel the same way. This guy’s short-term memory is no laughing matter; he got it bad. I waved the confusion away.

“Nothing. You have a client?” He nodded, then made a head gesture towards the Egyptian room to a gorgeous Latin woman with a curvaceous body talking to a stunning, tall African woman. Brian tells me her name is Miss Matthews. She winks at him, and with a curve of her finger, she beckons for Brian’s overeager ass to lead her to his room.

He met my smirk as he drowns the rest of his vodka, and nodded in another direction. “Looks like Madame is hooking you up for tonight, you lucky man you. Enjoy!” He informed me, very close to my ear, I might add. Too close.

I cut my eyes at him and from the corner of my eyes, saw Genevieve sashaying in a pink floral print, full-length kaftan dress leading this strange woman my way. Oh, damn! I should have been prepared for this, but I’m not. My breathing starts to hitch.

I motioned for Sam to pour me a drink; the guy was already on the job. I hear the Southern drawl of her voice coming closer. The sultriness of her drawling can only mean one thing… she has a potential client personally for me; who wants an all-nighter; I can see the never-ending greed in Genevieve’s eyes.

This woman she has with her has a hard glare trained on me with catty green eyes like she is assessing me. She is a red-headed beauty, wearing a purple lace camisole and black skirt, her purse and night bag bounce against her toned legs.

I glimpsed quickly at Genevieve, who forks an eyebrow, gazed back to this strange woman, and in a low, deep voice, I seductively said,

“Tell me what you came here for,” stroking the middle of her palm.

****To Be Continued…

©2016 Pamela E. Hester