And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by
And that has made all the difference.
I have a reunion I am supposed to attend next month and I was excited to go at first, seeing old friends, and being able to see with my own eyes that they are well. Safe, hopefully happy. It is nice to hug an old friend you haven’t seen in years.
They are not ordinary friends,we are friends who endured the depths of Hell together and came out on the other side. Many are not my friend at all, they are just my childhood, they are my past, they hold the same secrets I do.
I am trying to fight the urge “not to” go because in fact, there are a few, I am so anxious to see, they have married and I have not met their spouse,some have had grandchildren, some have found their happily ever after! Nothing brings me more joy than seeing an old friend once tormented, alongside me, now living happily and has a person they call their own.
I have to go, this inner battle of black and white constantly fighting with everything I have to stay in the gray, not one or the other somewhere in the middle is probably best after all. So let them fly in from around the world and I will be there with open arms and hug those I love extra tight and try not to glare too harshly at those that probably deserve worse. I cannot allow them to win. If I am hurt, by what they did or have even done in recent days, they win. I live this day because I am a fighter. A peaceful gal but a fighter non the less.
My body is whats weak, my soul is strong.I have to remind myself of that for I am struggling and it becomes harder and harder to find my (Polly Anna), That’s what I say when trying to find the good and not stay in the bad.
Pollyanna, is a very old movie in which this girl in-spite of her circumstances always found the good, she referred to it as her glad game. I play that game too many, many days, in the movie when she becomes ill she finds it is not so easy to play the glad game.
While I am unable at this moment to play the glad game,as often as I’d like to, I am no longer alone in my quest, I have a someone who walks beside me and sometimes lets me hide right behind his back. He holds my hands and whispers in my ears, “hold your head up high” ” I’ve got you”
This journey of mine while not always sunny, (I am not feeling all that sunny) it is an adventure I am proud of . I don’t always know how I get there but somehow I manage to stay afloat and hang on.
Sometimes it is talking to an old friend who shared the same horrors I did. I thank them for the times they spent talking to me when they have their own worries. sometimes it means looking at one of my children I brought into this world and smiling feeling pleased. Sometimes all I need is a hug and a kiss from my granddaughter. Sometimes, well sometimes plain and simple “time” is what it takes. A pair of fresh eyes can do wonders.
The best thing in the world however, is doing something for someone else and stop allowing yourself to become consumed with your own silly problems. (though they never feel silly at all)
Today, I say thank you to my very best friend in the world, the man who lies beside me every night. Thank you for holding me when my body trembles with fear , thank you for listening even when my words fail me, thank you for kissing my tears that refuse to stop, thank you for smiling at me even as I hobble and for always helping me up when I have fallen to the ground.
Thank you my friend, thank you my for this beautiful road trip!
I love you .
Today I am riding shotgun!
Thanks for coming along for the ride, remember to never cover your face . You are beautiful even on the days ugly seems to creep out of the darkness.
Robin ~ a simple bird.
Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.
Thursday, we have almost made it through the week. Friday’s everyone seems to feel relieved, weekend is around the corner and much-needed time to hit the refresh button finally arrives. Turn off the alarms which so abruptly wake us. Some, however work on the weekends and thus this doesn’t apply. I do not know why we cant call Monday’s the new weekend. Oh well, it is what it is as we say in my home. Make the best of what is in front of you.
I was thinking last night, as I was trying to watch my most favorite TV shows, doesn’t feel like there is enough time in the day to catch up on all the new seasons starting back up! Must mean it is time to start filling nights with TV, weather gets chilly and people tuck themselves into their homes and settle in with fuzzy slippers and comfortable flannels. Best time of year! Long skirts,jeans,sweaters and you can still wear your, flip-flops,and open toed shoes! I love this weather! Blue skies, gray skies, angry skies, oh and the breeze !!! Slight crisp feeling in the air! It reminds me I am still alive!
……………………………………………………………………………………………………… . “THIS IS WHAT AUTUMN FEELS LIKE TO ME!”
I need to remind myself, grab a book, and a cup of coffee .
A good book, or a Kindle in hand, don’t forget your glasses! …………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………… Ever experience this?
MY “middle ” often calls me up when she is engrossed in a book, we often talk about how sad it is when a great story comes to a close.
Go sit outside, before too long it will be too cold so relish in it while you can! TV can wait till the sun goes down but while the sun is awake so must I be. My windows are open as I sit in my office, The blinds are up and a slight chill runs through the room and I love it! I haven’t felt this alive in a long time. (I had forgotten I mattered). So I will make sure every day counts. I will spend time enjoying what is in-front of me and not waste one single day!
When I was younger, and my children were small, days like today we came inside for dinner, the rest of our day and into the early evening we played outdoors. We took long walks, let our kites soar above the clouds.We spent many a day stretched out on our front lawn watching the sky and telling stories in the clouds.
How does one look at clouds and not see all that is possible? Starring up at the clouds that seem to just linger somewhere in the middle of nowhere and everywhere. The world seems full of possibilities. Some days if you look up it feels like you can almost reach up and steal a cloud from the sky. “Stick one in your pocket for good luck”, Id tell my children. “Can you find a castle in the sky ?”I would ask them.
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….. What do you see?………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
Where shall we go today and how will we get there? Never leaving the grass we were laying on. Castles are always in the sky, you just have to look for them. People too often just give up if they cannot see something in a split second. Precious moments sometimes means just lying on your back and closing your eyes and breathe. Fell what surrounds us, its amazing world out here. Beauty is everywhere, though some days it gets hidden with the daily grind, pain, and busy busy busy, never stopping to look up from a phone or a computer. Go outside look up…look at.. there is beauty everywhere even in the midst of a world that seems to take more than it gives. “If you want it go get it!” that’s what I tell my children.
The night sky is stunning! That’s the world we live in, that’s our sky! Cherish it! Don’t be afraid to just sit and look up now and then and see what is out here.……………………………………………………………SHOOTING STARS ACROSS THE SKY….. ……THIS IS OUR UNIVERSE ! HOW INCREDIBLE IS THAT ?………………………………………………………………………………….
The Universe is a stunning precious painting. We need to be careful with works of art. That’s the world we live in, take care of it, take care of each other. YOU matter!
The world is remarkable. It is not always easy, it is never free, people pay a price, there is always a price. People have fought hard for the freedoms we so easily take for granted. (I try hard not to do that). I know how precious life can be it can be taken away in a flash! It is a delicate balance between what is and what can be. The question one needs to ask themselves is, what are you willing to pay? What will the effects be? Can you look yourself in the mirror and say,” I am OK with me?” You need to be able to say that. Every day and every night when you crawl into your bed it is YOU you have to face and YOU that you sleep with. My grandmother used to say to me all the time , “you made your bed now you have to sleep in it.” I changed that around a bit , when my children were young it was important to me that they understand the meaning of that statement. However, I wanted them to understand it starts with them. This is what I say, “MAKE THE BED THAT YOU WANT TO SLEEP IN” ” Make your bed like the life you want, BEAUTIFUL! INVITING! PROUD!” In my family we start our day by making our beds. It is the best way to start your day. Straightening up your bed and making it beautiful, inviting even, (while I understand will get messy later) is a lovely way to begin ones day. When we start each day with freshly made beds, something we can be proud of, and something we can look forward to at the end of our day.. Everything thing in between is what follows…… I like to think that is a very good way to start.
Which bed would you want to start and end your day with? Me, frankly, I love the way a freshly made bed feels and even on the days I don’t leave my home I always make the bed as my coffee is brewing!
With that I will say, CARPE DIEM! ( LATIN meaning “enjoy the day” ) today most people when saying this mean” Seize the day”Though the true roots of this phrase meant, “I pick I pluck , gather eat food, serve, etc.” either way it is what I do each day my feet hit the ground. I keep saying every day, “once my feet hit the floor, I am up, the day is mine, I can still get myself upright and that my friends is a very good day!
Some days are better than others,( even in Australia) today it is beautiful outside, Fall is in the air, I plan to enjoy it the best I can. I have a good book that I am dying to finish, I am going to rest up a little, my bones are nagging at me “rest already” . It has been a thrilling week spending time writing and listening to my soul. It is also exhausting, emotional and sometimes unhappy. For the most part though, I am enjoying myself with a trip down memory lane of my life, my journey and how I got to be here. I am alive and I am happy ! How in the world did that ever happen?
…..with a little luck and a lot of getting back up again refusing to allow others to dictate the print of my fabric, and so, I am here! You can hears me roar!
Katey Perry sings it best:
Thank you for coming with me on this fine , beautiful day, look around, see whats out there, say hello to someone, get outside, curl up with a book, walk your dog, kiss the head of your child,hug your sweetheart, do something that makes you feel ALIVE! Smile at the vision you see in the mirror! YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL!
As always, thank you for coming for another days adventure and an another days thoughts.
- Robin~ a simple bird.
Wednesdays, always reminds me of the poem from Christopher Robin ,“Halfway down the stairs is a stair where I sit. There isn’t any other stair quite like it, It’s not at the bottom , it’s not at the top . So this is the stair where I always stop.” A.A. Milne
Ever think when you wake up on Wednesday that your half way through the week? We not quite seeing as their are five days in a work week and seven from start to finish. So not truly half way, but close enough.
I loved the Winnie the pooh stories, I read them cover to cover and remember most of the poems inside these books. This one was always a favorite of mine for I felt (and still do) that I often found myself doing just that sitting half way on the stairs . Sometimes I referred to as the meeting place, Id say “Meet me half way!” My children always knew where that spot was. Many an evening I sat there talking to one of my children it was as good as any other place, often tended to be a place where no confrontations existed just a good place to sit and talk. even a great place to sneak a hug or two. I suppose that comes from my childhood. I met my first boyfriend in the stair-hall to sneak a kiss once or twice. (hush, do go spreading rumors now.) Often the stairway was a quiet place to think, read, and even talk on the phone when I had a house full of noisy children. The hallways were always my safe haven.( as a small child it is where one might have found me while screaming and yelling and a flying dishes sailed across my homes) If I could climb stairs these days I’m sure you would find me halfway up or half way down any stairs. Usually my back stairs these days when waiting for my granddaughter to arrive home, and on a beautiful day waiting for my husband at the end of his day, the beginning of our time. Halfway up or half way down, it is the very best place to sit.
Nothing better than dragging your best bear wherever you go. ( I still have mine )My bear now sits with the comfort of my husbands bear and my children’s favorite ones from their childhoods.
I was thinking last night of all my adventures and how we’ve just begun, I had Pooh bear and Christopher Robin running through my head. Each, day when my husband comes home he often says “hello Piglet,” and I reply “hello Pooh” .
When I was 7, April 1st, of 1970, I arrived in Chicago exactly one year after my mother was murdered. I was a scared , shy little girl, black and blue covered in bruises head to toe,I had long straggly dark hair, I was a very UN-kept sort of child. I was not a pretty child at a glance. I was afraid of everything and everyone.
It was a crisp April morning when I arrived, Chicago had quite the snow storm that Spring . Snow was up to my knee caps, and I was barely dressed .We had just driven from Florida I agree I was an unusually small and frail looking child, so the fact that snow was up so high really wasn’t impressive at all. I thought it was amazing.
April, 1970 snowstorm: On April 1 in 1970, a major…April, 1970 snowstorm: On April 1 in 1970, a major snowstorm began in . A total of 10.7 inches of damaging, wind-driven snow blasted the city on April 1-2 (8.2 inches on the 1st, 2.5 inches on the 2nd); “thundersnow” occurred on both days, and high winds caused drifts 2 to 3 feet.
That was A LOT of snow to a small child!
I had just spent the last 6 months living in Florida, and had missed the winter, I was so excited to play in the snow, I was after all a young child! That was not to be my destination however, I did not know what I was even doing in Chicago, I would soon find out this was to be dropped off and left at what was going to be my “forever home.” Or so I would be told.
I arrived in Chicago after having spent the last year in many foster homes,22 to be exact. Mostly ugly ones with ugly people, one family after the next being worse than the last. They told me it was so I would be safer moving me across the country into different homes because “they” ( the NYPD Blue along with the F.B.I.) were on the hunt for my mothers killer.
I remember being at an elderly woman’s home sitting on the back stairs( half way up ) when my grandfather and a police officer came to see me ( I think there was a lady as well.) They came to tell me that I was SAFE! They caught the man responsible for the death of my mother and now I could go home! They told me the name of the man, and I shook my head no-no no they had it wrong I knew they did. They made up a name of someone who didn’t even exist, I told them who killed my mother but no one seemed to listen of believe me because I was a small child( back then there really were no children rights) Later in my life I was told that they made up some stranger so I would believe that nobody I knew could have done something so horrendous to my mother or to me. They were wrong in what they did, it only scared me more. Now ,not only did I have to fear the man I KNEW killed my mother the man with the black beard,the man who beat my mother for sport,( he was an “important ” man of diplomatic status .The fights they had were tremendous. It was not odd to see my mother tied up with chains and ropes to bind her hands. She fought back but to her it was a game. to me it was just the world I lived in. My mother and her many notorious men often spent time in Dungeons. The Dungeons were a scary place though, I found some comfort in some of them. People were dressed with masks and worse extremely bizarre clothing. Some wore nothing at all. They had many contraptions . As I am older now I understand a little better what they were used for . I found comfort in the dark places we went to because for a short time I could hide and no one remembered about me. SAFE! that was not always the case there were too many times to recount that I was the center of attention to many, using me as a toy to throw about and be used up and left for the next. Some nights when I closed my eyes I prayed for the Wicked Witches to rescue me and take me away flying through the air being carried my blue monkey’s I recall a particular evening when I was in one of these dark locked up secret places The Dungeons! After being tortured for what seemed like forever, a woman wearing all black a long beautiful flowing dress she looked like a witch, and a black veil which covered her face, picked me up off a bed of nails and carried me to another room and placed me in a tub in the center of the room. Steam rose from the tub and the smell of lavender still brings me back to that place.
Lavender has healing powers.
The woman spoke in soft tones as she carefully washed my tired body, though I remember feeling nothing , nothing at all. Soft cloths moved about my body removing the scent of evil, if only for a short while. The woman was kind, she was kinder to me than what I was used to experiencing. She spoke in soft tones and was gentle with my small frame. The woman told me I should be very quiet, and went on to tell me a tale that has stayed with me all these years later. She told me that if you closed your eyes really tightly you could travel to a place somewhere over the rainbow:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fahr069-fzE ( this is my favorite cover of this song.
She told me she was the Wicked Witch that saved little children from the evil Warlocks that lurked around. I believed her, and I saw her many times. She saved me on several occasions. My world was extremely dark, kindness and gentle hands came rarely, I understood physical pain but I did not know what kindness felt like. I found comfort in this woman whom I later found out was an Angel. She belonged to what I now understand was the world of BDSM, which is often referred to as cruelty, and abuse. There is a huge underground world of this lifestyle. It was not a world of “Fifty Shades ” and happily ever afters. It was a world for grown ups who CHOOSE to “play”. Sometimes a very dangerous game. It was not a place for children, in my childhood I was not a child, but rather an object of amusement for my mother and her horrible friends. I can still hear my mothers laugh in my nightmares. She was cruel, unkind. she was abusive, she tried to destroy me. Something deep inside forced me to endure the acts of physical cruelty, for I knew something wonderful would happen when it was over. When my mother was done “playing” she would gather me up and say to me” lets grab Chinese to go!” We would go way of a Taxi cab that she whistled for ( two fingers inside her mouth the loudest sound I ever heard would come shrieking and cab would come to a dead halt just in front of us whisking us away to the local Chinese place. My mother would grab the paper containers and whistle for another Taxi which would take us back home. When we got inside our dwellings it was as though time stood still, nothing else existed . We would climb up on TOP of the dinning room table and sit “Indian style” and eat right out of the boxes with chopsticks, she would smile and laugh. It was a messy affair. I longed for those moments.
I can still see her throwing her head back with a robust laughter that drowned out anything else. Even though my mother was mostly laughing at my expense about all the terribly wrong things I had done that day. I enjoyed the sound of her laughter, I was glad she wasn’t yelling at me pulling my hair and reminding me what a mistake I was.My mother would remind me if I didn’t shape up nobody would ever want me.I just lived for the laughter and stopped hearing the words she repeated so often.
I did a lot of research in my older years and I realized my mother was training me to be a “submissive slave” for the world of BDSM.
In my adult life, I have discovered there is a very fine line between pain and pleasure. As a child I knew only pain, as an adult, I live for the moments when pleasure is what I feel. Pain is apart of my life, that is just the way it is. Torture and cruelty , however is not apart of my world today. Abuse is not something I allow, no matter how small, I stand tall when it comes to how I am to be treated . YOU teach people how YOU want to be treated!
I taught my children the same.
Nobody has the right to treat you with disrespect, and if they do run ! Run like the wind!
“The answers my friend, are blowing in the wind”
(Is it any wonder my life today is full of witches and rainbows.)
Every stranger could be a person with the intent to do harm to me. Nobody was safe, I trusted no one! I was petrified of everyone. I just wanted my grandfather to take me home , I wanted my mother,(evil as she was,she was my mom) I wanted to go home.
(A rare photo that I have managed to hold on to for my entire life, it is the only photo of my mother and I.)
I no longer had a home, everything I owned had been burned to the ground. The murder of my mother had left our home covered in blood. I had nothing. I belonged to no-one, I lived nowhere, nowhere at all. My life was full of darkness every day. Every night.
My life changed completely in April of 1970, I was driven across the country and arrived in Chicago. My father drove me ,along with my two siblings,( a tale for another day)
It was a very long drive, a big red car,a convertible as I recall, I loved when the wind would blow through my hair and it took me to places where nothing hurt no pain no tears that anyone could see. To this day I love when the windows are rolled down and all I can hear and feel is the wind running through my hair and into my brain stopping it from thinking if only for a moment. I sat stuck between my sister and baby brother. We arrived at to the place I would eventually call” home” for the next many, many years. We stayed in a hotel , During the day we visited this beautiful place, a castle in the sky I imagined. Artworks covered the walls with Kings and Queens , a Large royal chair sat just inside the front doors. What caught my eye was a huge Victorian dollhouse. I wished I could live right inside that house. I told that to my father while we were back at the hotel and he said.” great ,”
The next day my father drove me back to the red brick building with a bright yellow door, we walked inside and while standing, hiding behind the door a small man ,who spoke with a thick accent reminded me of my grandfather. “Come here child, I will protect you, you stay with me from now on”
Bruno Bethlehem, A man who changed my life forever! He stole my dignity. He saved me from one kind of Hell .He gave me a new kind of Hell . He was not the man he was supposed to be .He was not the man anyone except those that lived at the end of his wrath and hard-hitting fists would ever really know.
Eventually this man, this revered man, slipped a plastic bag over his head and killed himself. This was the man who was supposed to teach, help children, and be a role model for so many. (stories for another time.)
I did not even bother to look up, my stepmother and father with both their children in tow simply walked through those yellow doors and that was the last time I saw my father, it was the last time I heard his voice. He dropped me off and never came back.
A woman with glasses, slightly round walked over to me, ” Hello my little one ” she spoke. “Here is a little bear to keep you company, you will never be alone again.” My name is Sandy, she continued, what is you name? I could barely breathe let alone speak my name. I hated my name I hated the sound it made. So I said nothing, nothing at all.( Sandy, a woman about the age of my mother, was really the hero of my childhood. I would grow to love her like nobody else in this world.)
The small man with the thick accent said, ” do not worry my child, we will think of a name that you shall be called. That was the beginning of the first day of the next part of my life.
I had no family, I had no clothes, I had absolutely nothing but a beautiful bear. The woman( Sandy) extended her hand as she started down the hall, I did not lend her my hand back to her,but I followed her, I quietly spoke. “I said “this is Tracy” and she replied. “Hello Tracy, welcome home.”
Home. what a wonderful word. It was not my home, rather a placed I lived. For a moment that day, standing beside this woman, my heart would find a home.
With that, I will close for now, for today, I do have a home, a beautifully old home with quirks and a leaky roof, but it is my home and I am madly in love with it. I am grateful to my home, and the man who gave it to me. He may never truly understand the depths of my gratitude or what HOME means to me. Wherever he is where my home is. Some days he tells me hes putting me in his pocket to keep me with him all the day long . On those days my home is in his pocket. A safe place to be. It is close to his heart and it holds me up on the days when mine is weak.
Thank you for coming with me today, though my tale is not always a happy one it is my story.
I am not sad, I am grateful , for I have walked ten thousand miles, with each step changing the colors of my fabric with every thread of my being. It is a rich life, full of many shades.
Robin ~ a simple bird.
It is a wickedly,beautiful, complicated life.
Good Morning world, it is that time of the year, find your baking pans and let the baking begin! Banana bread, pumpkin bread, zucchini bread, and the best bread in the land FRIENDSHIP BREAD!
” AMISH FRIENDSHIP BREAD.”
I always thought friendship bread was such a cool thing to make. It takes a week to actually have the dough ready for baking . every day you add an extra ingredients and squish the bag each day till that day comes when you open the bag split it into three bags one to add more stuff too and then slide it in a pan and bake for your home and three extra bags too pass on to your friends or family, they now have a starter and so it continues. The hard part is finding someone with a starter, hence the name friendship bread . Each person adds a little special touch of their own and every time you bake your bread it is never exactly what you baked the last time always great and always a tad different!
Today is Tuesday, I have plans today, this is a rarity. I am going out for lunch with my “middle” and a friend of hers. I am so looking forward to this, a trip to eat my favorite food, great company and then the trip to the most fun grocery store ever! It’s an Asian grocery store a bit of a drive but oh so worth the trip! They have so many fun colors and tasty food there. I love buying things I cannot read, I talk to the gals there and they keep teaching me how to make amazing Japanese dishes! I am getting better at it. Last night I made Teriyaki Salmon and sushi rice! grilled veggies to boot! A tasty meal if I say so myself. Yet, while I tasted it I actually did not eat dinner, see this is really quite common for me. I love to cook and I am really a very good cook, but I never have an appetite once the cooking is done. I must figure out a way to change this situation.
So a trip to The Sushi Station in Rolling Meadows, it’s the best one a little smaller but great lunch dishes! I also love the staff there. So road trip!
This is food that is also an art! Here is where we will be going!
What is so cool about this place is you pay by the color of the plates. Each plate is a price, anywhere from $1.00-$5.00. So you really can enjoy eating whatever you want. It is served in the style of real Japanese style conveyor belts. it goes round and round and you open up the glass covers and grab what you want. The portions are small so you can try anything and decide what it is you like! Lunchtime is my favorite time to go because they have amazing lunch specials! Always a guaranteed good meal and fun with friends! Did I just write a review? I didn’t mean too. I was just telling my point of view. I love this place! It is the only restaurant I go out too eat at. The rest of the time I cook my food!
I am aching mighty horrible today but I want to go out, I have a little cabin fever I think. Between the weather and my body I am home most of the time. I am not complaining in the least I really am just giving myself a pep talk! go-go- go-go go!!! my hands hurt my back hurts and I am limping mighty badly the last few days because my knee is shot! (((sigh)))
Sing club begins today for “small fry” although I have been known to call her Fred, do not even bother to ask why, she would tell you I have so many silly nicknames, it is just my nature. So, “Fred” begins today, I hope she has a blast. She has a natural beautiful voice and loves, loves loves to sing. I wish I had an ounce of her talent to sing. I cannot carry a tune any longer.
When I was 15, I went to Great America like everyone else in the world before I knew how frightened I was about heights!
Okay, so this is not the screaming eagle I rode.
Lets try that again;
I believe this is the weapon that ruined my vocal cords!
We stood in line my Boyfriend at the time and two other couples we went with. Stupid me agreed to sit in the front seat of The Screaming Eagle the wooden roller coaster ride, what did I know I had never been on any ride before in my life! I began screaming before we ever began to move, I begged them to let me off I was so scared so terrified. and then the bars locked me in tight. I panicked horribly, they refused to let me out they laughed said I would be fine. I was in no way shape or form OKAY! I screamed till I blew out my vocal cords! One more trip by way of ambulance for me, I actually tore my vocal cords! I have not been able to carry a tune or sing really at all.. I sing when nobody’s listening but other than that I stay quiet.
Needless to say I did not end up staying with that boyfriend, he thought it was hilarious , I was beyond scared and now scared for life! I lost my singing voice. which makes me sad some days. I don’t know, I still sing loud in a car when I am alone, who really care what I sound like then?
Sing like nobody’s listening, dance like nobody is watching, live like it’s your last day, never apologize for who you are, live your own life , run your own race! Settle for nobody, go for the best, It is your story, write your own pages, be brave!
I am being brave, I am baring it all, the good, the great, the bad, the sad, the ugly, the unfortunate, and the very good oh my G-d amazing! Because that is my tale, it is the journey I am on. I did not get to always choose the path i was on but I do choose what I do with that path, I could turn around and go back or forge ahead and make the best of what is in store for me. I choose that usually. Some-days I am braver than others. Some days I prefer to just hide. Only for 24 hours though never longer than that! Got to dig deep I keep, saying deeper on some days.
Where I spent my childhood, walking through these trees, it was a stunning campus, a beautiful place to walk around. It is where I lived that was so horrible. I loved the days even the nights I walked through here. My children grew up seeing this in their early days. Hyde Park is beautiful, though the neighborhood is not the safest.
Believe in yourself, your neighbors, your work, your ultimate attainment of more complete happiness. It is only the farmer who faithfully plants seeds in the Spring, who reaps a harvest in Autumn.
– B. C. Forbes
Thank you for poking your head in today, but I have things to do, places to go, and my body is complaining , Must take good care of it so I can enjoy this beautifully, stunning weather, despite my aches and pains!
Take a peak outdoors today if you can and look and see how beautiful all the colors of our world is!
Even the darkest days, if you look around and fill your soul with beauty ,the ugly tends to take a backseat, exactly where it belongs! Do not allow the dark days to define you, let it stay in the background and keep your eyes looking at the beauty the world has so faithfully painted if we just look, it was painted for us!
Mother Nature sure is wonderful! Life is true Art! Look around and tell me what do you see?
HAVE A TIGGGGGGGGERIFIC DAY!
Robin ~a simple bird.
My favorite color in the world!