tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43284123537379180972024-02-20T01:15:25.595-06:00To the Daisy.A diary of second chances to do it right the first time.I am Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05413831081568789303noreply@blogger.comBlogger10125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4328412353737918097.post-62056979398999156842011-12-30T12:42:00.000-06:002011-12-30T14:57:28.136-06:00Attraversiamo<br />
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<i>"When two divorced people get together, four people get into
bed." ~Jewish proverb</i></div>
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<br /></div>
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It’s relatively safe to say most people will never forget
their first love. Not their name. Not the place in time. </div>
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<br /></div>
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And, with the passing of time – most first loves take on an
almost idyllic fantasy of what could’ve been. The bad is forgotten. The reason that
love was lost fades. Only the moment of falling is captured as a snapshot in
the heart and mind. Forever. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Same goes for a first marriage. Over time, the bitterness
fades and all that remains is deep-rooted longing for outwardly different
outcomes. The desire to never have experienced the process. </div>
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And in extreme cases the inability to let go. Move on. Forward.
</div>
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Striving to become someone’s last love means learning the
skill of acceptance. It’s an art only mastered by the definitely mature. </div>
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In a perfect world, all unwanted baggage would be checked at
the gate of opportunity. </div>
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<br /></div>
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If you want to know where your own heart is, look where your
mind goes when it wanders. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Sometimes, I wonder what actually goes through his mind when
someone mentions her name. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Does it always make him draw a breath. Does it still tug
somewhere deep inside.</div>
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Will anger always be a disguise for resentment and regret. </div>
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<br /></div>
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And, will he live the rest of his days in fear of provoking
an old ghost. </div>
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<br /></div>
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My greatest desire is for him to save the best part of
himself for someone that truly deserves it. To not lose the best years of his
life stuck in the past. </div>
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Loving someone is the easy part. It’s figuring out what you
can accept and what you cannot compromise that gets complicated. </div>
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<br /></div>
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The hard part is the act of making your new partner the
priority. Above a career. Above the popular vote. Even above the demands and wants
of young children. </div>
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<br /></div>
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It’s sizing up the mountain before the long climb. Taking a
deep breath and a giant step. Uphill. </div>
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Saying you’re over an old someone out loud is only a
mechanism to convince yourself you’re ready. In the quiet stillness, when you’re
all alone – that’s when you finally realize what becomes the truth. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Is it right to give up on your last love when it’s clear the
depth of your love for them becomes not enough to see you through the
differences? </div>
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<br /></div>
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When the choice to change appears unchosen. </div>
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<br /></div>
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When the gate is never reached. When baggage claim becomes the
permanent destination. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Letting go of the past doesn’t make one weak. It’s the
opposite. It means finally being strong enough to grasp tight to something
better. Happiness. </div>
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<br /></div>
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At any given moment every one of us has the power to say
this is not how our story is going to end. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Go ahead. Check your bags. It’s time to let go. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Attraversiamo. </div>
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<br /></div>
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The line is drawn. Cross over. To me. </div>
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<br /></div>
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<i>“We must be willing to let go of the life we have planned, so as
to accept the life that is waiting for us.” ~Joseph Campbell</i><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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Dance with me, </div>
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~Daisy</div>I am Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05413831081568789303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4328412353737918097.post-72356557761868363532011-12-27T15:55:00.002-06:002011-12-30T14:57:34.470-06:00Along the road<i>“Sometimes your nearness takes my breath away; and all the things I want to say can find no voice. Then, in silence, I can only hope my eyes will speak my heart.” ~Robert Sexton </i><br />
<br />
One day I had a reflective discussion with myself. It was before the beginning of the end. I vowed I would live all the remaining days of my life alone. I would find solace in the laughter of my children. I foretold a life of nothing but hard work and chores. <br />
<br />
For me, there would be no true love. And that was an acceptance I was glad to make. I decided I would become a romance novelist instead. Throw myself into the arms of my characters. And I was hell bent on making this scenario my reality. I would never again be the second choice for any man. Anyone. I would be the heroine on the page. Being rescued by my own pen. <br />
<br />
As John Lennon would claim, it was then, in that span of time, that life happened. Life would then be defined as before and after…him. <br />
<br />
He arrived in my life precisely as Rudi’s prophesy said he would. With a vengeance and daring me to ignore him. <br />
<br />
Bold, with a touch of whimsy. He was unlike anything I had ever known a man to be. And to say I was swept away is an understatement. <br />
<br />
Because of circumstances out of our control, we were brought together to be taken right back apart. <br />
<br />
I battled God, in those early days. I failed to understand how two people so destined to be together, could be separated so quickly. But, the more I didn’t understand at first – the more that man taught me the meaning of the daisy. <br />
<br />
In a society built on instant gratification and limitless freedom, we were imprisoned by chance and circumstance. Instead of tradition and convention, we had stolen moments and written words. <br />
<br />
It made me respect the process. You see mature love is a process. It was a process of getting to know me. For who I really am. And a process of getting to know someone for who and what they really are. <br />
<br />
I would sit in my bedroom late at night and long to hear his voice. To touch his hand. To see his eyes smiling at me. <br />
<br />
But that wasn’t meant to be. Not then anyway. <br />
<br />
Instead, I wrote to him. Without fail. I would tell him everything. I had no barriers. What I felt for him crossed all convention, space and time. He had become an extension of myself. <br />
<br />
And like a daisy, his love for me was loyal. And strong. When others would have taken a different road, he took an exit. However, his exit was straight to my heart. <br />
<br />
It was there along the side of the highway of my life, he asked me to stop. And smell the roses. <br />
<br />
This story. My story. Is one of the greatest love stories ever left unwritten. Until now. <br />
<br />
<i>“I wished for nothing beyond her smile, and to walk with her thus, hand in hand, along a sun-warmed, flower-bordered path.” ~Andre Gide</i><br />
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
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Dance with me, </div>
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 12pt;">~Daisy</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>I am Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05413831081568789303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4328412353737918097.post-15683110637409737882011-12-12T16:41:00.000-06:002011-12-30T14:57:40.620-06:00The choice to be remade<br />
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<i>“There are always two
choices. Two paths to take. One is easy. And its only reward is that it’s
easy.”</i></div>
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<br /></div>
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Opportunity is everywhere. And
in the stillness, you can often hear it knocking. Even if the sound is faint. As
this year ends, I have been in thoughtful reflection of the opportunity before
me. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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See, not very long ago, rock bottom became the solid
foundation for which I began to rebuild my life. Finding myself in a new city,
managing a new home and demanding career, while being the provider for a brood
of small children has been daunting. </div>
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There are days where on my list of things to accomplish,
written in my unmistakable handwriting, I write a reminder.</div>
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<br /></div>
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“Don’t forget to breathe.”</div>
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<br /></div>
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A message to myself to get up each day and be present. A
daily box to check in my list of tasks. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Of course, I didn’t intend to be alone at this juncture in
my life. No one gets married to get divorced. </div>
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<br /></div>
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And my intentions were never to be the only one. To clean
the house. To pay the bills. To do second grade math at the kitchen table. To
potty train a little boy. To be judge, jury and executioner when one daughter
pulls the other’s hair. </div>
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<br /></div>
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There is a popular song on
today’s radio that speaks right into my heart every time it plays. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“You are <b>more than the choices</b> that you've <b>made</b>.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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You are <b>more than the sum</b> of
your <b>past mistakes</b>.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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You are <b>more than the
problems</b> you <b>create</b>.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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You've been <b>remade</b>.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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That’s exactly right. I am more
than the choices I’ve made. The decisions that led me to where I am today will
not define me in the future.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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My life adds to more than the
sum of my past mistakes. My failures make me a success story. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I create more than the problems
assigned under my name. I create love. I create life.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I have been remade. The
opportunity to begin anew. To have a second chance to do it right the first
time. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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When opportunity began knocking
at my door, it was faint. But gradually, it became stronger. And now, the sound
has become the voice in my head. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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If it hadn’t been for my past
choices, mistakes and problems – I would never be able to appreciate the awesome
gift before me. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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The gift to bend. Not break. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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The gift to fail again. This
time under my own volition. And succeed. Survive. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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To be remade. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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The gift of the daisy. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i>“To live is to choose. But to choose well, you must know
who you are and what you stand for, where you want to go and why you want to
get there.” ~Kofi Annan<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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Dance with me,</div>
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~Daisy</div>I am Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05413831081568789303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4328412353737918097.post-7173961392554286042011-11-14T16:52:00.001-06:002011-11-14T16:56:08.253-06:00The rules of war<br />
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<i>“After a long, hopeless war,
people will settle for peace, at almost any price.” ~Salman Rushdie</i></div>
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<i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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Everyone I ever knew that had gone through a divorce had his
or her own version of a horror story. It is absolutely evident divorce brings
out the worst in people. Every skeleton hidden in the closet is dragged out and
publicly displayed for review and commentary. And, the person you were supposed
to trust the most in the world seemingly becomes your enemy. </div>
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<br /></div>
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After having lived through my parents’ divorce at a young
age, I vowed to not allow history to repeat itself. I wanted to be the one that
left quietly in the night. Took no more than my fair share. Never spoke a cross
word about my husband in public. And, end up friends. Maybe not buddies. But
definitely tolerable. </div>
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<br /></div>
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That philosophy was all fine and good, until the first shot
was fired. The shot heard ‘round the world. Or in my case, around the town. Our
church. Our social circle. </div>
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<br /></div>
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I’m convinced every divorce has that day. The day of the first
shot. After that, the rules change. Even in the beginning, it seemed more like
petty drama of a couple breaking up than actual life threatening maneuvering. I
guess I paid little attention to the devastating effects of those first few
firings from the enemy, onto my peaceful battlefield. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Maybe the reason I failed to understand the rules of this
kind of war was because simply, I thought there were rules to war. Even in
modern combat, there are lines that just aren’t crossed. And tactics bordering
on terrorism that stay out of the combat zone. Especially when children are the
hostages. </div>
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<br /></div>
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I decided no matter how dirty my once lover, turned enemy
was playing – there was a certain standard I wouldn’t get below. My friends and
family sang in my ear about the high road. They all told me how good it would
feel in the end to not play those games. </div>
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<br /></div>
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In essence, I set my own rules for war. My rules stated no
matter how bad it became or how angry I was with him, I wouldn’t do any one of
these three things:</div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';">
</span></span>I will not intentionally hurt myself, or my
children. </div>
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<span style="font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';">
</span></span>I will not intentionally hurt him. </div>
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<span style="font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';">
</span></span>I will not destroy our personal property or
possessions as an act of revenge.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Although paved with good intentions, the high road is very
lonely. I spent many nights alone with my phone off, so I didn’t have to see or
hear the latest comments or gossip. I left the community where I spent decades,
quietly. I did not shout from the rooftops all the list of done-me-wrongs, nor
did I try to correct the mistruths floating about me at the post office or
coffee shop. </div>
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<br /></div>
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My children and I walked away with barely any of our
personal belongings, so as not to create any unnecessary battles of
insignificant (or significant) household items. We begged and borrowed from
family and friends to fill our rental home. </div>
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<br /></div>
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I followed all the rules. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Most days, I was the only one. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Looking back on the process – I can say that truth and honor
were victorious. Although, the scars from my war can never be measured. Or
forgotten. And some of them will take a lot of concentration and strength, to
be forgiven. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Would I have fought a little dirtier in the war, should I know
now what I didn’t know then? </div>
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<br /></div>
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No. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Daisies bend, not break. </div>
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<br /></div>
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And I will not break my own rules. Not even for him. </div>
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<br /></div>
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<i>“If we
lose love and self-respect for each other, this is how we finally die.” </i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>~Maya
Angelou</i>
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;">
<br /><br />
</span>Dance with me,<o:p></o:p></div>
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~Daisy<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>I am Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05413831081568789303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4328412353737918097.post-18160051248775932882011-11-10T16:24:00.001-06:002011-11-10T16:59:36.416-06:00Friend of my soul<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>"We do not need to go
out and find love; rather, we need to be still and let love discover us.”</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>~John
O’Donohue</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am an Irish girl. Years ago, I read about the Celtic
tradition of Anam Cara. The idea of finding your soul friend held such intense
depth and longing. It became the ultimate intimacy. To me, finding a soul
friend was more important than finding the acclaimed soul mate. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have this fantasy of sitting on a porch swing with my Anam
Cara. Complete silence. Swaying in the breeze. Satisfied. Feeling as if the
best conversation in the world is taking place. That to me is the very
definition of two souls flowing together. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Or, being thrust together in the middle of a family crisis or
tragedy, coming out stronger in the end. Safety. Friendship. Connected by a
love and respect bound so deep it cuts across all barriers of reasonable and
rational thinking. That's Anam Cara.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When you first make the acquaintance of your soul friend, it’s
as if a magnetized field is drawing you together. It can’t be ignored. At
least, that’s how it was for me. And still is. After all this time. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I met him, everything from before began to fade away.
Disappear. Years and years of struggle and strife melted into the background.
Just as Rudi’s prophesy indicated. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I know with extreme clarity and certainty, my Anam Cara has
been with me every day of my life. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The first time we talked, this man asked my favorite flower.
What a funny question, I thought. Before I had time to answer, he told me I
reminded him of his grandmother, and her favorite flower was in fact, a daisy. </div>
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<br /></div>
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At the time, I thought it was probably just a coincidence.
So, I kept the prophesy of the daisy to myself. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As the days turned to months, I became awakened. My life began
to have meaning. Not again. But for the first time. It was when I least
expected and all but turned my back on it, that it happened. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Anam Cara discovered me. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The power of powerful friendship, his friendship, made me a
survivor. It carried me through some of the darkest days of my life. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I came to rely on him heavily during the last year of my
life. More than the air I breathe. He was my soft place to fall when the world
was spiraling out of control. </div>
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<br /></div>
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And when I thought the world was going to crush me under its
weight, his words kept me sane. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yes, words. Words to live by. </div>
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<br /></div>
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To seek shelter from the storm. </div>
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<br /></div>
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To remind me I don’t break. </div>
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<br /></div>
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To heal my heart with his hands.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My Anam Cara is my pen pal. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I owe him my life. And a porch swing.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>“Are you upset little
friend? Have you been lying awake worrying? Well, don't worry...I'm here. The
floodwaters will recede, the famine will end, the sun will shine tomorrow, and
I will always be here to take care of you.” </i><i>~Charlie Brown to
Snoopy</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dance with me,<br />
~Daisy</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>I am Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05413831081568789303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4328412353737918097.post-7157259585325012352011-11-04T16:58:00.001-05:002011-11-04T16:58:54.492-05:00The best person I know<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>“Above all, be true to
yourself, and if you cannot put your heart in it, take yourself out of it.” ~Hardy D. Jackson</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Right before the beginning of the end, my family was set to
celebrate the remarriage of one of my favorite uncles. My uncle had found
happiness and grace with an old friend, and my family was honored to soon
witness their ceremony. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This wedding was also merely days before Rudi left my life.
I remember sharing with him about the upcoming occasion. He told me to pay
attention during this weekend away because something profound would happen to
me. In fact, he felt this weekend was directly tied to not only my future, but
to his prophesy. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I remember clearly exactly when it happened. “It” being defined
as the moment I knew my life was changing. I became a different person in
exactly that instant and there was no going back. Ever. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The church was filled with family and friends. The wedding
was about to start. I sat in a pew surrounded by my children, husband and
relatives. Faint sounds of babies crying and children stirring filled the air.
The music began to play and the beautiful bride walked down the aisle. The
wedding was starting. My uncle and his new bride were beaming, eyes glistening
and hearts thumping. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was then that one of my children needed a restroom break.
I remember my husband jumped up and removed the child from the church. And they
never came back. Later, I found out they decided to play outside instead of
participating in the ceremony. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But the real point to the story is what was said inside the
church. The words spoken by the pastor my husband never heard. This message
altered my course in life. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The pastor invited every one of the adults in the room to
reflect on our partners. Our significant others. Our spouses. Or even those
just in a casual relationship with each other. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He told us marriage is sacred. And the art of a long and
fruitful marriage is to find the right person. Of course, right? Wasn’t this
Love 101? The last thing I needed or wanted was another fairytale story about
soul mates and true love. Afterall, this hadn’t been my experience with
marriage. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But, the pastor went on. He told us to look at the person we
came with, and he meant really look at them. Stare into their faces, look in
their eyes and see them for who they really are. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I sat there without my partner. His spot was empty. I
couldn’t see him for who he was in that moment, because he was gone. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Everyone else inside that church faded away and the pastor
started communicating only with me. We were the only two in the room and his
message was delivered right to my soul. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Chills went up and down my spine and my breath caught at
what he said next. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He told me if the person I was with in life was not the
“best person you know”<br />
then don’t be with them. Look at your partner, he said. Are they the person to
which I measure above all others? This person should truly define what I feel are
the best values in life. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He repeated it again, just for me. Life is too precious to
not spend my days with the best person I know. And the union of holy matrimony
is too important to settle for less than I deserve. Less than what I believe is
the most life has to offer. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I looked again beside me. All I saw were the faces of my
children. No partner. I started to think about him in a general sense and I
realized what I had known all along. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Rudi was right. My future became clearer. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My uncle’s wedding was beautiful. During the wedding dance,
a weight was lifted off my shoulders. My body and soul floated freely to the
music. I felt more alive than I had in a decade. It was almost as if I had been
given permission to stop settling for less than the best. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What happened to me that day reminds me of this quote: </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>“Those who danced were thought to be quite
insane by those who could not hear the music.” <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The best person I know can hear the music in my heart. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dance with me,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
~Daisy</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment-->I am Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05413831081568789303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4328412353737918097.post-59145243263824929342011-11-01T16:25:00.002-05:002011-11-01T16:26:59.539-05:00Feeling homeless<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>“Peace - that was the other name for home.” ~Kathleen
Norris</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As a child, my family moved every few years. I learned at an
early age that home was where your family took shelter together. Where love
abides and laughter fills the halls. We could make a home anywhere.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
However, after moving so much in my youth, I longed for
stability in my adult life. I had the idyllic fantasy of putting down roots in
a house, the same house for all the days of the rest of my life. I envisioned
myself as a white-haired grandmother walking through my home and pausing in
each room. I saw myself reaching out and stroking a wall with my fingertips and
feeling decades of memories come flooding back, warming my soul. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Before the end of my marriage, I sought out my mother for advice
and comfort. Interestingly enough, she has worked in real estate for more than
20 years. If there’s one thing she knows, it’s houses. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I confessed to her my sorrow and struggle over leaving our
marital home. Separating my children from the house we all loved. She knew I didn’t
want to end up in a string of rental houses with boxes stacked in the corner
and someone else’s problems to keep fixing up. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mom’s advice to me was simple and understood, “never fall in
love with something that can’t love you back.” Her words became my mantra over
the first difficult months, when I found myself in a tiny hamlet of a rental house
with its creaking floors and drafty windows. Her words kept me strong when I no
longer had my warm garage to park in or my beautiful kitchen to cook meals. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I took her words to mean I shouldn’t fear giving up my
beloved house because at the end, it was only bricks and mortar. Where you
reside needs to be more than a house, it needs to be a home.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A home filled
with love, laughter, warmth and protection. Protection from hurt, anger and
anguish. Tears shouldn’t readily fall in fear and uncompromise. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It hasn’t been easy this past year. It’s hard not having my
own house to go home to each night. To constantly need permission to hang a
photo on the wall or change paint color in a certain room. I always have a
feeling of “temporary” and I can’t shake the unsettled anxiousness running
through my veins. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am the type of person that longs for a stable place to
stay. I’ve moved so many times and traveled so frequently. However, I’ve done
everything in my control to make our new environment inviting and warm. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I want my children to know and understand that wherever we
are as a family, our love survives. No street address defines who we are. And
temporary is just that. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Someday, we will fall in love with a place that will love us
back. Forever. Until then, I keep sweeping the floors in our rental house and
restacking the boxes lining the outer edges of my bedroom. And more often than
not, I add water to the vase of fresh daisies on my table.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And on my radio, I sing along to this song…and sometimes now
the tears don’t fall. Maybe I am finally ready to move away from the house that
built me. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>“You leave home and you move on and you do the best you can<br />
I got lost in this old world and forgot who I am</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>I thought if I could touch this place or feel it</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>This brokenness inside me might start healing<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Out here it’s like I’m someone else</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>I thought that maybe I could find myself<span class="apple-style-span"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>If I could walk around I swear I’ll
leave<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Won’t take nothing but a memory<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>From the house that built me”</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>~Miranda Lambert</i><span style="font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
Dance with me,<br />
~Daisy</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>I am Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05413831081568789303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4328412353737918097.post-87517807550677311132011-10-21T16:35:00.000-05:002011-10-21T16:35:13.728-05:00Obtaining indifference<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>“The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference. The
opposite of art is not ugliness, it’s indifference. The opposite of faith is
not heresy, it’s indifference. And the opposite of life is not death, it’s
indifference.” ~Elie Wiesel</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span>You can start a love with good intentions. Make no mistake, that’s
exactly what I did. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span>I was just a kid out to prove the world didn’t drop off flat at the edge
of my small town’s city limits. I had dreams as big as the sky and a belief all
people were good and kind. Especially the man I brought home and called my very
own. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span>It’s an accurate and true statement to say my marriage was not only
lived, but survived. As day turned to night and the years passed, soon the
babies came. An avid romance novel reader, I used to lay awake at night and
secretly wonder to myself how the reality of my life could be so far from the
romantic fiction of the pages I poured over. Even a tinge of romance would’ve
kept the spark of hope alive for me. Right? No. But it might have made the
inevitable prolongment more livable. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span>This young wife and mother grew up really quickly. I learned how to
balance the unbalanceable. I righted wrongs that never should have been. And, I
believed in my heart the opposite of love was in fact, hate. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span>Pure raw hate coursed through my veins. I felt sadness, anger and rage.
I could not believe I had allowed my life to come to this. My children deserved
fairytale parents. They deserved a world of fluff and fancy. Where their
biggest concerns were not cemented in the tragedy of a crumbling family. I
hated that I was part of a failing marriage and a failed love. I quickly came to believe sometimes love isn’t enough. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span>It wasn’t until the beginning of the end that I became awakened to the
lesson of indifference. In learning how to truly live, survive and finally even
experience real love – I learned how to learn to let go. To stop fixating on
the failure. The anger. The ‘what should have, could have been.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span>I have become a work in progress. There are still times when the facts
of my life will bring me to my knees and the trigger reaction is to hate what
has happened. To us. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span>It’s in those moments, I think of him and all he has taught me. And I
think of the daisy. For when faced with adversity, the easiest thing in the
world to do is give up. Hatred breaks you down. Makes you weak. If it hadn’t
been for my before, I wouldn’t have the knowledge that I owe my life. And these
experiences made me stronger. More determined to embrace life with eyes wide
open. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span>I heard on the radio these song lyrics: <i>"The best thing I finally learned about me was finding faith in ways, way beyond me... but I'm letting go and holding close to all the things that mean the most." ~Gloriana</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span><o:p> </o:p></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yes. I’m letting go. And I’m holding close, as tight as I can, all the
things that mean the most.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span>Daisies bend. Not break. And the opposite of that former love, is finally
indifference.<span> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span><span><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span><span>Dance with me, </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span><span>~Daisy</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment-->I am Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05413831081568789303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4328412353737918097.post-9116460450343344382011-10-18T12:20:00.000-05:002011-10-18T14:56:30.799-05:00The curbside prophet<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><i>“Love is like light and there are two kinds. The bursting
fireworks of the moment and the solid, fixed stars that sometimes become obscured
in the heavens, but are always there, year after year, for a lifetime. You must
experience the first to appreciate the second. But be careful with the
fireworks. They burn out quickly. And if you get too close, they can hurt.” ~Ann
Rinaldi</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If I had known then what I know now, I would have paid
closer attention to the signs. As ‘they’ say in all ‘their’ infinite wisdom,
hindsight is 20/20. At the time, I was so wrapped up in being a career wife and
mother, meeting deadlines and making meals – I had no idea the message that was
handed to me. Until it hit me with extreme clairvoyance. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I met Rudi a decent handful of months before the beginning
of the end of my marriage. Under traditional circumstances, we may have become
friends. Our children could’ve easily attended the same schools; our dogs
could’ve fetched the same stick in the same dog park. But that intersection of
fate wasn’t meant to be. Instead, Rudi was sent to teach me the difference
between fireworks and stars. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Rudi is a curbside prophet. He entered my life only briefly,
but his message will remain with me all my days. For, he gave me the knowledge
of the daisy. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We hit it off famously. He dissected my personality in
moments. He analyzed my sadness and offered hope for a brighter tomorrow. And
he read my future like a fortune in the palm of his hand. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What he predicted for my heaven-on-earth could only be
believed by the clinically insane. I never told anyone what transpired between
us or Rudi’s prophesy. And, he left my life as quickly as he came. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It took me months to not feel his void. I would long for his
guidance, as my life became very difficult, very quickly. It was right about
then, my children and I packed up our few belongings and moved out to find a
different course in the world. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Before he was gone for good, Rudi gave me this picture as a
symbol of my future:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM69f52YF6p7mEykFTEeLfhz97QI0oUePRC1PUZmlIN3qBlSSX8IcIBODlyLrAkUvFFLrZmcUxTp985qMvzHDoLEWIhWWWPZsn-0G_fgzg0ANN1z0pgg2pYCJWCdGKb7bqcidLLOWg8hRA/s1600/daisies.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM69f52YF6p7mEykFTEeLfhz97QI0oUePRC1PUZmlIN3qBlSSX8IcIBODlyLrAkUvFFLrZmcUxTp985qMvzHDoLEWIhWWWPZsn-0G_fgzg0ANN1z0pgg2pYCJWCdGKb7bqcidLLOWg8hRA/s400/daisies.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He once called me Daisy May.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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As this story of love and
life unfolded over time, I would soon come to understand why. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Dance with me, </div>
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~Daisy</div>I am Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05413831081568789303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4328412353737918097.post-2267340591108405922011-10-17T17:02:00.000-05:002011-10-20T14:25:21.651-05:00The beginning of the end<br />
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<i>“The only thing more unthinkable than leaving was staying;
the only thing more impossible than staying was leaving.” ~Elizabeth Gilbert</i></div>
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My professional training dictates when the story reads
negatively, it’s time to change the story.</div>
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In my personal life, this was easier said than done. </div>
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<br /></div>
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As someone’s wife for the best part of the last decade – I
gave the best part of me…to him. </div>
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<br /></div>
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It’s a lesson in reality when you wake up next to someone
and realize just because you took some vows and you took some chances, you
don’t add up. You don’t make sense. Truth be told, we never did. </div>
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<br /></div>
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When bad became worse, the proverbial line was drawn in the
sand. And, one year ago became the beginning of the end. The ‘before’ to my
pursuit of happily everafter. </div>
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<br /></div>
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The hardest part for me was admitting to myself I was
finally ready to call it quits. Afterall, I was no quitter. I took my marriage
vows seriously and there was an expectation to last the long haul. </div>
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<br /></div>
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And then there was the house. Our house. I wanted to raise
my children in this glorious home with its banisters and beams. I wanted to
have 60 years of memories come flooding back to me on a porch swing one fine spring
day in my golden years. </div>
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<br /></div>
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But, the line was drawn in the sand. I drew it. And I had to
answer to myself if I let the waves wash it away, again. So, I got up and
walked out of my reality. Never looked back. </div>
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<br /></div>
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I just spent the last 12 months
‘getting dissolved.’</div>
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<br /></div>
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Little did I know waiting for me along my path was a symbol
of innocence and purity. Planted just for me in perfect bloom. Loyalty and
love. The symbol became a daisy. </div>
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<br /></div>
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The remarkable thing about a daisy – strength. They stay
steadfast and strong. Bending when others would break. Hanging in there in
perfect cadence. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Maya Angelou says, <i>“There is no greater agony than bearing
an untold story inside
you.”</i> My survival is tied to the story of the daisy. </div>
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<br /></div>
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And this story I owe my life. I can’t wait to write it for
it needs to be told.<br />
<br />
<br />
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Dance with me, </div>
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~Daisy<br />
<br />
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</div>I am Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05413831081568789303noreply@blogger.com0