Love is…

DoorGloomy, chilly day. I feel like the weather. Car’s in the shop for a bit of spruce up, and once out, a formal ad will go into the trade papers. I see it sold. It is sold. Repeating mantra over and over.

Yeah, I know I’m going on way too much about the same things, all having to do with finalizing the move. It’s just that I’m so over this and want it done. End of the month is my leave date which is only a couple of weeks away, so not much longer. No, I’ve not bought my ticket, but will do that shortly. When I thought I was moving west, I’d planned to be on the road this week, so the timing is still reasonable, all things considered. But, I’ve still two loads to ship off, the car’s gotta get gone. I have to get a ticket. Oh, I mentioned that already. Shit. See? There I go again. Okay, enough. I promise, no more moving woes. I’ll move on to a new topic. Something I can do right now.

A month before my wedding, I had a heart-to-heart with my dad. My mother was gone four years by then, and my father had remarried. His wife was a wonderful woman, but I didn’t feel inclined to have daughterly type conversations with her. I had a brother who had a beautiful wife, but they weren’t terribly fond of me, preferring the company of my then boyfriend to me. So, I was left with dear old dad to seek advice from.

When I told him I didn’t think I wanted to get married after all, he asked why? I told him that “his” parents were not nice, for starters, and that I had concerns about this and that. He listened. If I remember correctly, we were in the car. He was driving. He said that you don’t marry the family and that I had the customary and traditional pre-wedding jitters. All would be well. He might have wanted to get rid of me, afraid I’d always be sponging off him if I didn’t go through with things. Whatever the case, I needed his permission to walk away and did not get it.

Of course, there’s no point looking back at the events that make up our history if by doing so we’re hoping to change them, or make them go away. The only reason to revisit the past is for story-telling purposes, or to identify triggers so you can heal them. Thing is, as I revisit the past to write Adopting Elizabeth, I’m doing a lot of all of above. It’s good, but unsettling, too. It drives home the fact I’ve been doing this one tine piece at a time for a very long time, never finishing, because as soon as one of these difficult issues started to boil, I’d turn off the stove and walk away.

Remember in the vlog I spoke about it not necessarily being a specific event that matters but rather the patterns and habits we choose to develop as a result of the event? The event is the opportunity, the catalyst. We define its relevance in the way we behave afterwards. I’m just starting to get a sense of what it really means, what the bigger picture is. For me, I’m pretty sure I can see where my reactions and responses created a persona bent on being a tragic heroine rather than a person who takes charge. When I acquiesced to Dad’s advice and walked down the aisle, my sub-conscious knew very well there would be hell to pay. A part of us always knows the truth.

And the truth can be a hard pill to swallow. But I vowed to take responsibility and find solutions over this year. I vowed to get honest, face what I’ve not wanted to, or been unable to until now, and surround my heart with love.

My wish tonight comes from Anne Frank.

“Everyone has inside them a piece of good news. The good news is you don’t know how great you can be! How much you can love! What you can accomplish! And what your potential is.”

Yes, she was a child, but she did not stop seeing the possibility. She never lost hope. It matters not whether we have a lifetime before us, or a day. What matters is that in whatever time we have, we love.

Until tomorrow…

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