Life is a journey filled with heartache and possibility. I am under reconstruction. Let's talk.
Tuesday, December 8, 2015
I was in 7th grade for the second time when I thought about boys for the first time. By 9th grade my best friend Monica and I had graduated from Barbie dolls and set our sights on guys. We doubled on my very first date, and when her date disappeared at the party,my date gladly took her place. There wasn't much to forgive. She had lovely olive skin, almond shaped eyes, thick brown hair, and her teeth were very straight as a result from years of braces and retainers. Of course guys were drawn to her. I dreamed of finding my version of Gene Kelly spinning around on a lamp post during a rain storm as he sang to me. After a couple of marriages gone wrong, I am single again, trying to remember who I was long before my life got tangled up. I lost a lot of years in there. Years ago, my mother's sage advice to me was, "Do not tell men everything about you. Be a woman of mystery!" That was a most difficult thing to carry out since I felt compelled to tell them everything about me (like a job interview to be the girlfriend), even becoming someone else if that's what they wanted. As I got older, after the convincing was done, and they were staying, I became dissatisfied with the relationship and left. I wasn't my authentic self. Life is a journey of finding oneself. We think we are this, or that, and live between the minutes instead of being in the moment. I hear people say all the time that they want to find themselves. I know what that means. Monica and I now live far part. She's in Wisconsin/Florida, I am in Texas. We are friends on Facebook. We watch one another live through pictures. Sometimes I leave comments. Sometimes she leaves comments. And she still has that thick hair and straight teeth. She even has her own company which takes her interesting places like France and Lubbock. Monica never traded herself for someone she didn't mesh with--still single, and I am single again. We took separate paths in life and ended up kinda in the same place. I'm getting back to my grass roots, the life I had before I allowed some of my dreams to drop by the wayside. I want to find them and breath air back into them. Feelings and experiences bloom in my garden alongside planted lavender. The round moon comes out and mesmerizes me. On the porch, my dog's drinking water catches my reflection. You see, my mind wanders free as a barefooted child running through tall summer grasses eager to experience everything. The mirror says I am all grown up now, but my heart says its not true. I am reconstructing myself. Age is just a number. My number is high. Talk to me.