Ending a friendship is like closing and packing up a room in your heart.
She tenderly took each memory in her hands, taking a moment to reflect
on it and the emotions and story that came with each piece before
carefully wrapping it in tissue, while wiping away the tears that
accompanied them.
She then lovingly placed each memory back away in her heart chamber for safe keeping.
Carefully closing the heart shaped box, she inscribed on the side,
'Sleep with the angels'.....quietly crying as she gently and very slowly
pulled the door shut behind her.
"Memory
is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the
things you never want to lose." ~From the television show The Wonder Years
July 28, 2014
July 17, 2014
Here.....Take My Sword
I had just met him for the first time a few hours earlier.
We had gone out for breakfast together,
spent time at the park scampering, and laughing, and feeding the squirrels,
and then he had taken me to his home to show me his latest natural experimental lab,
after which, we actually engaged in a belly-laughing, fun, playful sword fight in his basement.
Boy did I have a fantastic time, as it had been very long since I had been with such a sweet-hearted, genuinely fun, spontaneously, caring and thoughtful guy.
His eyes sparkled with joy and enthusiasm for life.
His laugh came from deep within, which was infectious and refreshing at the same time.
His wisdom and candor were intriguing.
His heart, pure, and unadulterated.
He had no fear of sharing his emotions, authentically speaking the feelings he was experiencing deep within.
And he was present-in the moment-fully enjoying, literally every minute of me and of my company.
Back in his home, when we took our positions for our sword bout he had given me the weaker, older, flimsy sword which is common practice among four-year old boys. But it seemed fair, being that I do have an age, strength and height advantage over him.
So we took our places, and following his rules and directions we engaged in a fencing competition of sorts. We were serious and funny and all over the place advancing and retreating as we swatted our swords. It was good exercise physically but more-so emotionally because in those moments I was living in the present, unaware of anything outside that basement except the two of us playing.
However, our time was cut short and it was time for me to leave.
We said our goodbyes and as I headed out the door to the car, he came running to me with his new, pristine, strong sword, holding it out saying, "Here, take my sword."
It was one of those, this-will-be-a-lasting-memory-in-the-moment memories.
One that you wish had been video taped so it could be reviewed when a self-worth-reminder boost and a heart-hug was needed.
You could not have bottled a more true, genuine, heartfelt, act of love and sacrifice.
I knew what that sword meant to him, and although we had only known each other for not even half of a day, he wanted to give me one of his most prized possessions.
He had never asked my age, or what I do for a living, or what my income was, or how much I weigh.
He didn't even know my last name, but none of those things were important to him.
He had felt something in his heart for me, and that was all that mattered to him.
He did not let facts, or unimportant details, affect how he felt and his desire to express that.
It was one of those experiences that stay with you, and that set an example to remember.
It was a forever-in-your-heart-vault keepsake, a priceless gift.
It is a standard of what to expect from a man.
A truly sweet-hearted, genuinely fun, spontaneously, caring and thoughtful guy.
Someone who will give you his best, bringing out your best because of it.
It is a fight worth fighting.
"Love isn't when there are no fights in the relationship, love is when once the fight ends, love is still there."
We had gone out for breakfast together,
spent time at the park scampering, and laughing, and feeding the squirrels,
and then he had taken me to his home to show me his latest natural experimental lab,
after which, we actually engaged in a belly-laughing, fun, playful sword fight in his basement.
Boy did I have a fantastic time, as it had been very long since I had been with such a sweet-hearted, genuinely fun, spontaneously, caring and thoughtful guy.
His eyes sparkled with joy and enthusiasm for life.
His laugh came from deep within, which was infectious and refreshing at the same time.
His wisdom and candor were intriguing.
His heart, pure, and unadulterated.
He had no fear of sharing his emotions, authentically speaking the feelings he was experiencing deep within.
And he was present-in the moment-fully enjoying, literally every minute of me and of my company.
Back in his home, when we took our positions for our sword bout he had given me the weaker, older, flimsy sword which is common practice among four-year old boys. But it seemed fair, being that I do have an age, strength and height advantage over him.
So we took our places, and following his rules and directions we engaged in a fencing competition of sorts. We were serious and funny and all over the place advancing and retreating as we swatted our swords. It was good exercise physically but more-so emotionally because in those moments I was living in the present, unaware of anything outside that basement except the two of us playing.
However, our time was cut short and it was time for me to leave.
We said our goodbyes and as I headed out the door to the car, he came running to me with his new, pristine, strong sword, holding it out saying, "Here, take my sword."
It was one of those, this-will-be-a-lasting-memory-in-the-moment memories.
One that you wish had been video taped so it could be reviewed when a self-worth-reminder boost and a heart-hug was needed.
You could not have bottled a more true, genuine, heartfelt, act of love and sacrifice.
I knew what that sword meant to him, and although we had only known each other for not even half of a day, he wanted to give me one of his most prized possessions.
He had never asked my age, or what I do for a living, or what my income was, or how much I weigh.
He didn't even know my last name, but none of those things were important to him.
He had felt something in his heart for me, and that was all that mattered to him.
He did not let facts, or unimportant details, affect how he felt and his desire to express that.
It was one of those experiences that stay with you, and that set an example to remember.
It was a forever-in-your-heart-vault keepsake, a priceless gift.
It is a standard of what to expect from a man.
A truly sweet-hearted, genuinely fun, spontaneously, caring and thoughtful guy.
Someone who will give you his best, bringing out your best because of it.
It is a fight worth fighting.
"Love isn't when there are no fights in the relationship, love is when once the fight ends, love is still there."
June 26, 2014
The Way I Hear It....
This is the way some of my little friends "hear" it......
"Your awfully wedded wife...."
"You're such a man kick (romantic)."
"The Barbie's aren't kissing, they are doing mouth-to-mouth separation."
"Your awfully wedded wife...."
"You're such a man kick (romantic)."
"The Barbie's aren't kissing, they are doing mouth-to-mouth separation."
More Of My Child's Art Work
This picture is very big and heavy. It is maybe 5' x 4'. (I guess I could've measured it to be accurate....but you get the idea...it's just big and weighs a lot!)
Again, I am not going to properly describe the technique, but this is how I saw it done:
It was made with layers and layers of paint which is why it weighs so much. At first, it looked like just colors haphazardly and sloppily (I wonder if my son will appreciate my professional description) being applied. But then he started to carve out (for lack of a better word) certain parts revealing the colors that were deliberately chosen backwards to forwards to show through. Then he painted more on top of the rest of the picture. O.K. that's all I'm going to say because I'm not helping, but look at the end result!
Again, I am not going to properly describe the technique, but this is how I saw it done:
It was made with layers and layers of paint which is why it weighs so much. At first, it looked like just colors haphazardly and sloppily (I wonder if my son will appreciate my professional description) being applied. But then he started to carve out (for lack of a better word) certain parts revealing the colors that were deliberately chosen backwards to forwards to show through. Then he painted more on top of the rest of the picture. O.K. that's all I'm going to say because I'm not helping, but look at the end result!
June 5, 2014
Child's Art Work
Here is more of my son's artwork!
I'm bummed because I couldn't find the original canvas picture I thought I took of just the start when it was just a blue wax canvas.
So this is all wax. He started out pouring (?) the blues and then added the white into that. (I am sure I am not using proper descriptions of his technique....but hey, I'm just a proud mom is all...)
This is the finished piece. But look closely...
(Here is a link to the REAL picture-look how similar!)
http://www.ldschurchtemples.com/stgeorge/
He used STRING for the foliage...
Isn't he AMAZING?!!!!!
I'm bummed because I couldn't find the original canvas picture I thought I took of just the start when it was just a blue wax canvas.
So this is all wax. He started out pouring (?) the blues and then added the white into that. (I am sure I am not using proper descriptions of his technique....but hey, I'm just a proud mom is all...)
This is the finished piece. But look closely...
(Here is a link to the REAL picture-look how similar!)
http://www.ldschurchtemples.com/stgeorge/
Isn't he AMAZING?!!!!!
May 29, 2014
The S.A.M. Story: EPILOGUE
EPILOGUE
Being awaken from her deep, anesthetized sleep she heard a subdued, distant voice, "Good Morning Beautiful. Open your eyes." Feeling groggy and some pain, smiling, she put out her hand and opened her eyes wanting to touch and see him, hoping he would be there, knowing he had come, someone she had waited for and sooo needed to see. But it was not him. It was the doctor.
Saddened and disconcerted, this caused her to recall her final S.A.M she had sent to the publisher-" He was always just a fantasy I dreamed of and made into whom I wanted him to be. He never was "real"."
Pain reeled through her, not from the surgery but from her heart, and tears ran down her cheeks into her ears, as she tightly closed hers eyes trying to push out reality. Grieving the loss she had created. She drifted off into a deep sleep, knowing that in this space in her life, she was physically alone and wouldn't ever be receiving the sweet texts she had yearned for and had written about.
It had been her fingers, that had typed the words, that the story had come through, and yet she still acted perplexed and disappointed with the unfavorable ending. Where was that magic wand? Where were her messages? Where was he?!
******************************************************************
Her friend quietly helped her get into the car, placing her hospital belongings in the back seat and assisting her with the seat belt. No words were spoken then, because good friends "just know" as did hers. Getting behind the wheel, her friend reached over and squeezed her hand, looking with empathetic eyes directly at her and succinctly said, "It will all be o.k."
Turning on the car, the radio filled the silent, dead space between them with music. As she both longingly and blankly stared out the window, she braced herself for her new life that would now be filled with loneliness and immeasurable sadness. Although he had just been a fantasy delusion, in an eccentric way, he had sufficed for companionship. She now knew that once again her existence would be one lived in solitude with no "cyber" anything to fill the "space" in her life.
The words of the song playing in the background, typed their way into her head, making her listen more intently as she heard what was impossible......it was the song she had written in her manuscript.....and it was his voice over the air singing......to her.....
Priceless and beautiful beyond compare,
With the rest of my life I want you to share.
I will stay no matter what, always by your side,
As we will now become groom and bride.
I will stay no matter what, baby will you stay with me
Not just for today but for eternity?.............
THE END
Note: Although inspired by real people and events, (and real clothing I own) in my life, this story is fundamentally, fictional.
The S.A.M. Story has been "spread out" over a months time, so maybe it would be a different read, now that you are able to go back to the beginning, reading straight through, without the "cyber breaks". Some pieces may also now "fit together" and make more "sense". Enjoy!
I said in the beginning (here) that I was trying my hand for the first time at a short story and I asked for your input.
I want to thank all who offered words of advise and encouragement (sounds like my own little academy awards speech doesn't it?) and to the faithful readers throughout this process!
As it really was an unpredictable process, formulating a full blown story, evolving as each day arrived!
Being awaken from her deep, anesthetized sleep she heard a subdued, distant voice, "Good Morning Beautiful. Open your eyes." Feeling groggy and some pain, smiling, she put out her hand and opened her eyes wanting to touch and see him, hoping he would be there, knowing he had come, someone she had waited for and sooo needed to see. But it was not him. It was the doctor.
Saddened and disconcerted, this caused her to recall her final S.A.M she had sent to the publisher-" He was always just a fantasy I dreamed of and made into whom I wanted him to be. He never was "real"."
Pain reeled through her, not from the surgery but from her heart, and tears ran down her cheeks into her ears, as she tightly closed hers eyes trying to push out reality. Grieving the loss she had created. She drifted off into a deep sleep, knowing that in this space in her life, she was physically alone and wouldn't ever be receiving the sweet texts she had yearned for and had written about.
It had been her fingers, that had typed the words, that the story had come through, and yet she still acted perplexed and disappointed with the unfavorable ending. Where was that magic wand? Where were her messages? Where was he?!
******************************************************************
Her friend quietly helped her get into the car, placing her hospital belongings in the back seat and assisting her with the seat belt. No words were spoken then, because good friends "just know" as did hers. Getting behind the wheel, her friend reached over and squeezed her hand, looking with empathetic eyes directly at her and succinctly said, "It will all be o.k."
Turning on the car, the radio filled the silent, dead space between them with music. As she both longingly and blankly stared out the window, she braced herself for her new life that would now be filled with loneliness and immeasurable sadness. Although he had just been a fantasy delusion, in an eccentric way, he had sufficed for companionship. She now knew that once again her existence would be one lived in solitude with no "cyber" anything to fill the "space" in her life.
The words of the song playing in the background, typed their way into her head, making her listen more intently as she heard what was impossible......it was the song she had written in her manuscript.....and it was his voice over the air singing......to her.....
Priceless and beautiful beyond compare,
With the rest of my life I want you to share.
I will stay no matter what, always by your side,
As we will now become groom and bride.
I will stay no matter what, baby will you stay with me
Not just for today but for eternity?.............
THE END
Note: Although inspired by real people and events, (and real clothing I own) in my life, this story is fundamentally, fictional.
The S.A.M. Story has been "spread out" over a months time, so maybe it would be a different read, now that you are able to go back to the beginning, reading straight through, without the "cyber breaks". Some pieces may also now "fit together" and make more "sense". Enjoy!
I said in the beginning (here) that I was trying my hand for the first time at a short story and I asked for your input.
I want to thank all who offered words of advise and encouragement (sounds like my own little academy awards speech doesn't it?) and to the faithful readers throughout this process!
As it really was an unpredictable process, formulating a full blown story, evolving as each day arrived!
May 28, 2014
The S.A.M. Story Part XX
PART XX
He wanted his pre-proposal to "bait" her, as was their unofficial but usual way of "playing"-an enchanted 'high' of sorts for them. It was all part of what had made their relationship so addictive. Like an enslaving, habit-forming drug, it always left them wanting and needing more, making "space" so hard to accept, and deal with. Never quite being enough, yet momentarily exhilarating, thus heightening the dependency and the ecstatic joy. It was the "fun" they so loved about their relationship and each other.
His plan was to propose, by serenading her, only this time it would be with HIS words in his song, expressing all the feelings he had kept hidden; safe from exposure, rejection, and pain. From her. It was his most revealing and vulnerable, sheltered S.A.M. yet....awaiting disclosure. One that would leave him hoping for approval, and acceptance.
He set the plan in motion. Knowing she would be astonished and bewildered not expecting it, he elatedly typed in 'And they lived Happily-Ever-After', pushing SEND to her at the same time she, crossing cyber paths, typed in, 'And they lived Happily-Ever-After' and SEND......
Only his was going to her, while hers were the closing words of her manuscript she had been working on for close to a year, sent to her publisher (wanting to get it to him before her hospital stay). She not knowing he was drawing closer to her, him, not knowing she was done.
Tomorrow will be the epilogue and final entry.
He wanted his pre-proposal to "bait" her, as was their unofficial but usual way of "playing"-an enchanted 'high' of sorts for them. It was all part of what had made their relationship so addictive. Like an enslaving, habit-forming drug, it always left them wanting and needing more, making "space" so hard to accept, and deal with. Never quite being enough, yet momentarily exhilarating, thus heightening the dependency and the ecstatic joy. It was the "fun" they so loved about their relationship and each other.
His plan was to propose, by serenading her, only this time it would be with HIS words in his song, expressing all the feelings he had kept hidden; safe from exposure, rejection, and pain. From her. It was his most revealing and vulnerable, sheltered S.A.M. yet....awaiting disclosure. One that would leave him hoping for approval, and acceptance.
He set the plan in motion. Knowing she would be astonished and bewildered not expecting it, he elatedly typed in 'And they lived Happily-Ever-After', pushing SEND to her at the same time she, crossing cyber paths, typed in, 'And they lived Happily-Ever-After' and SEND......
Only his was going to her, while hers were the closing words of her manuscript she had been working on for close to a year, sent to her publisher (wanting to get it to him before her hospital stay). She not knowing he was drawing closer to her, him, not knowing she was done.
Tomorrow will be the epilogue and final entry.
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