Skip to main content

Maybe...



  One routine day, my friend asked me if I wanted to meet for lunch.  Of course, I said, “Yes”.  I mean what girl could pass up pancakes?  And, of course, girl talk?  With strawberry cheesecake pancakes on my mind and sweet syrup conversation, we sat down and talked at IHOP.  Little did I know, the dollop of whip cream information she would lay out on the fluffy hotcakes.  She preceded to say that she knew a Christian man who loved God and his family.  Could this mysterious man be the creamer to my coffee?  She also threw on the blueberries that he played bass on the worship team at their church.  Sounds like a man I’d like to sing a tune with.  A little more information was exchanged of the mystical man and I thought to myself...maybe I’d divvy up the cards.  God has always led me in the right direction and maybe this meeting was the door to love.  We talked a little while more over steaming java about life and how God has intervened in our lives, then we parted ways.  I got in my car and headed home to mountains of maybes and passionate possibilities. 

Where did it start, you ask?  None other than Facebook city…filled with hope, love, and dreams.  I sent my friend a message saying if I should send this unknown man a friend request.  She said, “Of course!”  I sent him the request and to my surprise he accepted.  The looming letter was sealed with “Carl and Brandy are now friends”. 

I decided one day to share a post about Superman ice cream, a delicacy of my little girl Michigan days.  Carl waved a French flag and included himself in the conversation.  The likeness he had for Superman drew him in.  We went back and forth with banter.  The banter finally sauntered into me messaging him.  “Hi!  I thought I’d message you…”  Ring!  And they’re off!  Out of the “love gate”.  Daily messages led to, “Would you like to get ice cream?”  My heart sugar-coated over with excitement.  With Meg Ryan’s smile in “You’ve Got Mail” I replied back and said, “Yes.”

June 27th, 2017, I met a man…Cajun, green-eyed, and genuine.  We met that fateful summer day at an ice cream parlor, Scarlett Scoop.  Very soon we would be scooped into each other’s life bowls.  “Hi. I’m Brandy.”…“Hi, I’m Carl.”  My Michigan accent was as bold as the sweetness in the java chip ice cream that we ate.  Carl John Baudoin would soon hold my heart like the plastic spoon he was holding in his hand.  The conversation melted into stories and pasts.  Laughs and smiles plastered the vintage wall of the parlor.  Chit-chat popped and sopped like the Swamp Pop that was in the cooler just beyond.  What lies for us beyond this pink building and cypress trees?  Only God proclaims and sees. 

It was fading into the dusky eve when we both decided to meet at the marina and take a short walk.  A short walk lengthened into two cans on a string from one heart to another.  Eight hours of talk and play crashed like the waves that beat against the marina wall.  Boats made their way up and down the canal as we stood in the blooming bond breeze.  Will I be bonded together with Mr. Baudoin like the ropes on the ships that sail by?

After “Candy” ventures, jokes, puns, and likeness spun, love has risen like the Louisiana sun.  We were forging together through everyday life and through families.  Bowling and Books a Million dates were established and ravished my heart.  Giggles sat upon the bookshelves and caramelized our coffee.  Affection struck me like the bowling bowls we threw down the alley at Creole Lanes.  We were pins that were about to fall into the depths of love.

One bowling night, we decided to take a drive in his little red car.  We stopped at an unexpected destination and walked amongst veteran warrior statues and lights that shone our path to “mounting maybe”.  We tarried over a bridge that led to a romantic pink plantation.  We talked deeply, as deep as the glistening bayou waters.  Carl moved me right under the moon and said I shone from the bestowed beams.  Maybe…just maybe, love will be bestowed upon Southern and Northern hearts.

July 11th, 2017, mountains of maybes and passionate possibilities progressed into a yes.  1:00 am we arrived at my house.  I remember nervously sitting in Carl's car awaiting the obscure kiss.  We ended up under the tabernacle starry sky.  The moon glowed and our eyes sparkly toned.  I whispered, “I know you want to kiss me.”  A gentleman, that he was, he gave me time to get my beating bearings.  We stood in each other’s presence, illuminated by the night temple.  We rested forehead upon forehead, crowning each other with respect.  I finally tilted towards beard, mustache, and lips.  Carl followed and met me with a magical movie kiss.  He said, “Are we doing this?”  I said one simple word, one inevitable syllable that would change my “Houma world”…”Yea.”  We were bound with "love crowns". 



Cajun Crowned

Midsummer come-with-me flight
Red hearts floating
River of maybe’s and might’s?
Oh! Thee Louisiana hold-me heat!
Passionately, swiftly, reap!
Longing love, take a gander
Take moonlit, progressing seat
Beat, where to? Beat

Cajun man, enwrap thine hand
Feet leaping leap
 Jazz town beat
Scamper off sleepy Sandman
Song note night,
linger…lovingly  linger
Bully Bullfrogs,
crooning singers

Pink house haven
God, soul-mate paving?
Star bright waters,
 Irish-French saunter
eyes glisten, bathing
Thee heart, I’ll be saving?


candid moon fella’
Where will hearts twinkle?
where will they light
heart rhythm beat, beat,
zydeco beat

Amid night castle
notorious nerves cast
on star mast
Oh! How highly nigh
Pressing fateful kiss
Gentleman awaits
Heartbeats sway,
chime
Foreheads crown,
bind
Tilt, to the hilt, kiss!
Oh my! Mister! What bliss!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

I'm turning 30! Dad, I need you.

  As I sit here by myself, with the electric fireplace glowing in the background, I think, “I can’t believe I’m going to be thirty next month.”   March 16 th to be exact .   I’m going to be a thirty year old woman like the woman acting in the Hallmark movie I’m watching.   A new adventure awaits me as I stand atop the thirty year old mountain.   As I overlook the adventurous summit, there is a pinnacle peak missing, my dad.   I will be traveling emerald roads and picking fresh flowers without his guidance.   What would he think of me now?   Would he be proud of the woman I’m becoming?   What godly words would he have spoken at this time in my life? My twenties stampeded by like a band of Mustangs over the plains of Montana.   I remember turning twenty-one two seconds ago and taking a picture with my dad.   Snap!   Click!   Memory day branded.   That was the last year I would see my dad in pictures. ...

I Once Knew a Man

August 11th, 2008 will mark the 7th year anniversary of my dad's passing.  The journey of grief has taken my family and I to many places, through the shadowy woods trying to tread towards the light and standing in the sunshine with God's warmth upon us.  June 2013 was the year that my mom and I left our home in Michigan to be with my brother in Louisiana, who was pursuing a career in the oil field.  We needed a fresh start, a new beginning, a start of a peaceful chapter.  Michigan held many rooftop stamps (my dad owned his own roofing business) and camping "memory days".  Sweet memories bloomed everywhere, amongst the country and in the suburbs.  God decided that He wanted us to move to Houma, Louisiana, Cajun country, to build a new life.  My dad was an original Southern man, born and raised in Central Louisiana, a little town called Beaver (nope, don't even look on a map, because you won't find it).  Even though, I left my home in Michig...

Tap, Tap, Tap...Faith upon my Lap

  This is a memory I’ve never blogged about. I love blogging because, I can write about feelings, love, faith, and somehow, lengthen my dad’s legacy. An imprint was left on my soul that spans the meadows of Cades Cove, which was my dad’s favorite vacation spot. On my heart, he tied a forever memory knot. . His faith also traversed the mountains of the misty Smokies. My dad’s surmountable trust in God bequeathed throughout “heartlands”. . One evening, gentle faithfulness nested in our townhome. My dad was in the end stages of his earthly life and was preparing his soul to go heavenly home. Even though, my dad wasn’t fully coherent due to morphine, he still comprehended God’s love. He still understood ounces of hope. I opened the creased pages of his coffee stained Bible. The word of God was torn and disheveled from years of usage. This was a Bible of a man after God’s own heart. . I opened to Hebrews… . Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about w...