"You may only be one person to the world, but you may also be the world to one person." ~Unknown
His hands gently cup my face as he looks into my eyes, then softly kisses my lips. Complete acceptance of me in spite of my illnesses and my disability, asking nothing of me but to be loved in return. Hugging me in a tight squeeze, he whispers in my ear, "I love you, Grandma."
I spent a magical week with my six-year-old grandson. Broken seashells on the beach, the wonder of seagulls, squeals of laughter at incoming surf, Cinnamon Toast Crunch, a swamp tour, alligators, shared bowls of popcorn, Lego creations, a movie date at McDonalds followed with Alice In Wonderland - 3D.
Wanting to cuddle and sleep with me at night, his sprinting thoughts were voiced in excited chatter and questions...endless questions, fired with machine gun velocity. What does "blink of an eye" mean? What is traffic?
Why do you use a cane? What is insulin? Does it make you better? Does it hurt? I answer his genuine concerns with honesty. Snuggling close, I feel his love for me and express my love for him.
What is a blink of an eye? This special week with you. Does it hurt? Yes.
Copyright © 2010
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Valentine Lingerie - Still Traumatized
"Cosmetics is a boon to every woman, but a girl's best friend is still a nearsighted man." ~Yoko Ono
Valentine's Day has passed, but I am considering therapy for PTSD - Post Traumatic Shopping Disorder - buying lingerie for Valentine's Day.
I am not afflicted with Jello jiggles and wiggles, but I sense my body's equater is creeping closer to hipline? Everything is shifting to my southern hemisphere. Factor in my pathetic attempt for an occasional hot flash, (a warm fuzzy for me), and I am headed for catostrophic menopausal global warming, not setting the sheets on fire.
Thinking candle light will be good; I know dark is better. I look at the pink or red silky scraps of black-trimmed lace and inwardly moan. I want to appear as 'to be had', not a 'has been.'
Suddenly, I am engulfed by a glowing epiphany of my middle-aged experience, not to be confused with a warm fuzzy. Making a few ingenous purchases, I smile at the checkout, confidently smug at my cleverness. A thought crosses my mind, though. Considering the impending surge of baby-boomers, Victoria's Secret needs to implement a Cougar line of black support fishnet stockings and lacey, racey flannel.
Copyright © 2010
Valentine's Day has passed, but I am considering therapy for PTSD - Post Traumatic Shopping Disorder - buying lingerie for Valentine's Day.
I am not afflicted with Jello jiggles and wiggles, but I sense my body's equater is creeping closer to hipline? Everything is shifting to my southern hemisphere. Factor in my pathetic attempt for an occasional hot flash, (a warm fuzzy for me), and I am headed for catostrophic menopausal global warming, not setting the sheets on fire.
Thinking candle light will be good; I know dark is better. I look at the pink or red silky scraps of black-trimmed lace and inwardly moan. I want to appear as 'to be had', not a 'has been.'
Suddenly, I am engulfed by a glowing epiphany of my middle-aged experience, not to be confused with a warm fuzzy. Making a few ingenous purchases, I smile at the checkout, confidently smug at my cleverness. A thought crosses my mind, though. Considering the impending surge of baby-boomers, Victoria's Secret needs to implement a Cougar line of black support fishnet stockings and lacey, racey flannel.
Copyright © 2010
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)