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I began my ditty at 1 a.m. and finished it before my shower this morning. It sounds a bit like a 3rd grader wrote it, but you’re all so kind that I’m going to share anyway. Here goes…….

My New Free Life Journey

I don’t want you to think
I feel sorry for me
Or enjoy being the star
Of my own tragedy.

Not for a moment do
I believe all is lost.
I’m just bemoaning all
That this marriage has cost.

I’m reaching for tomorrow
And holding on to hope.
The retelling of my plight
Is just the way I cope.

I’m working it out and
Getting it straight in my head
Before I move on to
The place where I’m led.

Showing others how it feels
To be an abused wife,
Sharing with the world
The horrors of my life.

I’m gathering my memories
And putting them in a box.
Rebuilding and moving ahead
While suffering aftershocks.

I look forward to the day
I’m able to live in peace,
When justice prevails and
His games and violence cease.

So, please don’t judge my words.
Please don’t misunderstand.
Just give me the warmth of your smile
And your outstretched loving hand.

 

So, anyway, on to today’s post…..

There was a day about thirty years ago that stands out in my mind.  A day when all of the stars seemed to align, and God smiled on me.  Nothing fantastic happened, but everything just felt right.  It was warm, almost hot.  I was wearing a lavender velvet tank top and a lavender floral gauze skirt.  My Dr. Scholl’s sandals were working my calves, and my legs felt energized.   A slight breeze cooled the day enough to keep it comfortable as it blew the lightweight skirt in lovely patterns around my legs.  I carried a fat, round glass bottle of tart-sweet apple juice.  As I walked the streets I was acutely aware of birds singing, and everyone I passed by seemed to smile at me.  All felt right with my world.  For decades I’ve longed for that feeling again.

Today, an hour ago, I climbed down from my massage therapist’s table.  As I scheduled my next visit he and I discussed how far I’ve come.  A year and a half ago I looked and felt nearly crippled and was told my condition may be life threatening.  Now, I twist and turn and am able to move.  My body goes where my mind tells it to.  I walk in a straight line.  My shoulders gradually pull back to that forward, contracted position, but he pulls them out and for awhile I walk tall and proud.

I put make up on today to go out but, again, didn’t do my hair.  My loose curls that refuse to go in any cohesive pattern just shot out wherever they pleased.  Guess what I read on the internet though?  There are women who put four different styling products in their hair before diffusing it and then twisting it and flat ironing it to get loose curls that fall softly in every direction.  Shoot out, fall softly–it’s all the twist you put on things I guess (yes, pun intended!).

My oldest son sent me a jacket with his school logo and colors on it.  I love the cut of it; I love the softness of the inside of it.  And, it matches my comfy blue yoga pants.  Today I wore them with a hot pink tank top, which contrasted with the navy blue pants and jacket and just popped.

After my appointment I ran to the supermarket next door to pick up a few items.  It was upon leaving the store that I had my moment.

I stepped out into the crisp autumn air.  My sexy beach hair (yes, that’s what the internet articles called it) was blowing softly around my face, and the warmth and softness of my yoga pants and new jacket against my bare skin contrasted with the bite of the wind on my face and hands.  My shoulders were pulled back, and I felt like I had regained the inch I’ve lost.  I was pleased with my purchase and eagerly anticipated dinner tonight and breakfast tomorrow.  Soft Italian bread with a crispy crust and organic salad mix with spinach will compliment my chicken dish tonight.  Tomorrow morning the half and half will lighten my bitter coffee, which will be countered by the sweetness of my organic pears.  Good choices.  And, everyone I passed by seemed to smile at me.  Good feeling.

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