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Archive for the ‘emotions’ Category

I love this…. first encountered it on NPR……..  telling your life story in 6 words, no more, no less… Smith magazine has published a book of these.

Ernest Hemingway’s……. “For sale: baby shoes, never worn.”

http://www.smithmag.net/sixwords/ 

Mine – “Seeking: Time, Love, Sleep,Art, Wine” 

What’s your 6 word memoir?

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It’s been one of those days……….. my clear coat on my car is blistering for some strange reason, looks horrible.  The body shop can not get it in for  a few weeks.  $$$

This evening I broke a tooth…………. eating cheese!  I take my stress out by clenching and grinding my teeth and the last few weeks have been very stressful. I have a night guard but I take that out in my sleep……….probably because it interfers with my ability to clench and/or grind. $$$

My dentist and his staff are on a week long retreat.   

Good news…….. had a wonderful painting donated for my upcoming gala by a woman with Parkinson’s disease. It reminds me of Monet’s waterlillies, I think I like this one even better, perhaps because I know and admire her.  She is in her 70’s and still paints or draws daily.  For her to set up her canvas and easel is a major chore yet one she refuses to let others help her do……..everything has to be just so.  When I went to pick it up she dropped the frame…….chipped a huge section off a very expensive frame.  I took it to our local and fabulous frame gallery, he knows her, and he was only too happy to put it in a new  very expensive frame at his expense.  I will use it for a live auction item. She will be there and she will be thrilled.  In her prime she did a lot of art shows, now that her every movement is challenged, she just paints for her own therapy.  

One of my highlights today happened at Wal-Mart. They hire people who have disabilities.  At our local store they have a young lady who is a greeter.  She has cerebral palsy.  She can’t speak but tries and she tries hard.  She loves to check your receipt against the merchandise in your cart as you leave, She loves and needs the interaction with people,when you talk to her she beams. I always make a point of speaking to her and having her check my cart.

Today, when I walked in she was waving her arms and smiling, so excited.  I walked up to her and asked her why she was so happy.  Her body, true to form, was jerking all over the place but she managed to type  a code in a lap top type computer on her stand and it spoke to me!!!!  She was thrilled to death to be able to communicate with me and she joked with me too……..and she laughed. I laughed.  I hugged her and she typed in, “I love to be hugged”.  It got me………….kicked me in the gut……….I can only imagine she’s been waiting a lifetime to tell someone that.

I told her I did too as I blinked  back tears.

As I was leaving the store I saw a woman about my age standing outside the entrance, crying.  I asked her if she was Ok…….she nodded yes, as tears streamed down her face.  She said she is the mother of that young lady and was so touched by her excitement about her new “voice”…….  and the fact that a stranger would take the time to talk to her as if she were  a normal girl.  I hugged her mother and told her that I never thought of her daughter as a normal girl, she is nothing less of exceptional……….. and a great inspiration to me!

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This afternoon I went to a birthday party for a gentleman turning 90 – he told me he reached this age in good health because he knew the magic formula.  I asked him what that was, hoping he’d enlighten me.He looked at me and said, “Love. I fell in love with a good woman who loved me with her entire heart on my good days and bad days and I did the same for her.”I want a younger version of that man. Good days and bad days, oh yes, I have loved that way………. I am missing the man who can return that kind of love. 

He said he isn’t too much to look at now days.  What he doesn’t realize is, it is not how someone looks that is import,  what sags and wrinkles only makes them that much more lovable.  It all starts and ends with what’s inside.  I choose to live with an open hand, open heart in hopes of finding real love someday……..and holding it.

I don’t want the guy with the 6-pack or the one who dresses to the nines, I don’t care about sports cars or how much money he makes, what he does for a living,  I want the guy who’s hair has turned the color mother nature intended it to be at this age, the guy with the lines on his face………the lines life delivered……….I will climb over the pretty boys to get to the skin horse…….anyday of the week.

And now, one of my all time favorite passages from “The Velveteen Rabbit” – about the skn horse

“The Skin Horse had lived longer in the nursery than any of the others. He was so old that his brown coat was bald in patches and showed the seams underneath, and most of the hairs in his tail had been pulled out to string bead necklaces. He was wise, for he had seen a long succession of mechanical toys arrive to boast and swagger, and by-and-by break their mainsprings and pass away, and he knew that they were only toys, and would never turn into anything else. For nursery magic is very strange and wonderful, and only those playthings that are old and wise and experienced like the Skin Horse understand all about it.

“What is REAL?” asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. “Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?”

“Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.”

“Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit.

“Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.”

“Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,” he asked, “or bit by bit?”

“It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”

 I do have the capacity to love again…………in time……..in time. Right now, I have fresh wounds that need attention……..deep and raw, but in time I will be ready again.

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Life goes on

Life goes on ….

Two Septembers ago, I heard the fear in her voice.  We sat in her backyard drinking coffee with the chiminea aglow, her face mostly in shadows except for the tears trickling down her cheeks.

Her fear was not for herself, not for the days ahead when the beast would have its way with her, taking a breast was not enough, it would soon claim all of her.

She worried how he would get along without her, how he would handle the silence, shop for groceries, remember to keep doctor appointments etc. Her voice lowered to a whisper. She told me she did something very right all those years ago, she married a wonderful man. When she was diagnosed, he was there, telling her it was their battle.  When she was sick, he cared for her without her asking. When she cried, he held her and comforted her… and not once did she have to ask, he was always there for her.

She looked at me with eyes that pleaded for answers.

“When I am gone, who will care for him?  What if this happens to him, who will be there for him?”  She knew how essential his support had been in the early days, it was even more so now.

I wrapped a blanket around her and refilled her coffee as she looked up at the stars. A symphony of crickets filled the damp night air.

She turned to look at me, pointing to the heavens.  “Do you see that really bright star over those old oak trees?”

I nodded, holding back tears, selfishly wondering what I was going to do without her.

She continued, “Right there, right there is where I want him to look for me………..we’ve sat out here for 30 years and there’s always a bright star right over those trees.  Me and the Oaks, that’s where I’ll be.”

 

Her voice trailed off……perhaps she was wondering how far away she’d be.  “He needs to remarry, you know. He’s a good man, some woman will be happy with him……..perhaps Carla L would be a good fit for him?  You know, I can see them together; they’d probably live in her home.  Or maybe you should make sure he finds someone who loves to dance; I never liked it but he always loved dancing. You will need to keep your eye on him, to make sure he goes on.”

Three weeks later she slipped into a coma. He called me to sit with him.  When I arrived he was painting her toe nails, her pillow had recently been fluffed. He had her favorite candles burning and a photo of them on the nightstand.  He held her hand so tenderly and told me that even then, with her bald head and emaciated body, he looked at her and saw a gorgeous woman who loved him with all she had every day and every night. 

They used to glance at each other across a room and everyone recognized the look.  He looked at her the same way then.

She slipped quietly away the next day. 

Last night I attended his wedding – alone.  He looked at his new bride and I once again recognized the look of love. At the reception she told me his wife wrote a letter to the woman he would marry after she was gone.  She said it was the most touching, thoughtful letter, stained with her tears…… welcoming her into his life, the life she left behind.

She was quite a woman, that friend of mine.

I heard someone ask them if they’d be living in her house.  She said, “No, we will live in his house, it has the most magnificent view of the night sky, right over the old oaks.”

I knew what that meant, more importantly, I knew what that meant to him.

How sweet, how wonderful……..two people who truly love and understand each other.

We should all be so blessed………….he found it twice……….. I’m still searching for once…..perhaps someday.

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Masterpiece

palette1.jpg 

I close my eyes and remember you

small details

picked up by the scrutinizing eye

of an artist

Had I the talent

I would have painted you

that afternoon in June

on a large fresh canvas

caught every small detail

the way the sky with her billowing clouds

wrapped around you

the sun picking up the highlights

of your salt and pepper hair

and casting shadows on your face

the freshly cut grass of the river bank

your pedestal

the reflection of the harbor

in the corner of your eyes

as they looked at me

with the undeniable

look of love

  

Had I the talent

I would have captured that moment

in oils

you in your black shirt

and wrinkled trousers

in the late afternoon as long shadows fell

and the gulls watched

but what my masterpiece would not show

is the woman with subtle crows feet

and paint on her hands

who remembers ever so vividly

the way your fingers tasted in my mouth

how your body fit mine

so perfectly

and how so many could-have-beens

never happened

no, the world will not read my scribblingS

nor will they know of my emptiness

they will not see my memories

that are locked away in my mind

the world will see my masterpiece

that small glimpse of the time

you let your fear of being hurt

fall away

and loved me the way every woman

deserves to be loved

Many have that for a lifetime

My masterpiece embodies a sliver of time

late on a summer afternoon

     

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