To my teenage granddaughter - congrats on turning 13 Rhianne Kayley.....

HAPPY 13TH BIRTHDAY

Written by Beverlee Blampied (c)

Today you have become a teenager

It's a day you've been waiting for

13 years old you are now

Growing up well -  very loved and adored

Live each and every moment -  be the best that you can be

For the character of your makeup is the one thing that will last

At home, at school, or wherever you are

Guide and guard yourself with care, as life happens so fast

Hope you have a very special birthday

May all of your dreams come true

And may the start of these special teenage years

Bring much fun and happiness to you

In life every story has an ending - in a story every ending is a new beginning.....

New Beginnings

She noticed that it was beginning to get dark earlier these days. It was only mid November yet there was an icy coolness in the air as the sky began to darken.  But she was feeling a little warm, - perhaps from the anxiety and nervousness in the pit of her stomach. In a few minutes he would be there. She couldn't believe that it was actually happening, felt like she was part of a made-for-TV movie. But some part of her had obviously clued in, because, while it all seemed remote and unreal, she was literally shaking with nervous energy.

She had put on her 'little black dress' under which was her new black-lace underwear. She had perfectly plucked her eyebrows, painted her finger and toe nails a nice cherry red and had had her hair cut in a fresh, yet somewhat funky, hair style. She looked in the mirror and liked what she saw. Maybe because she was excited or maybe because she was more comfortable with herself in middle-age. She was a bit larger than she wanted to be - than what he would remember her being - but there was something still strongly feminine about her new curves. Her eyes were dark and purposeful. Her lips were softly lined and sensual. She looked and felt like a woman who had seen things, knew things, experienced things. A  woman who could be trusted. She was the best she could be and now all she had to do was wait.

She had invited him for dinner ten days ago, when they had discovered each other again and renewed their acquaintance during a lunch break at the business conference they were both attending in the city. It was now many years after they had gone their separate ways  - he to Vancouver, she to Toronto - after ending their casual dating relationship, both of them in search of careers, and not then prepared to take on the responsibilities of a more permanent relationship. He had readily accepted her invite.

The meal was cooked. The house was clean and arranged just so. She sat on the love seat by the window, awaiting his arrival. She pictured him pulling up in the driveway. Wondered if he was nervous too. She thought how wonderful it would be if he could actually accept her as she was now - and this time maybe really learn to love her - and how extraordinary that would be. She thought that the good thing about falling in love when you are middle-aged is that you wouldn't have to always be asking your partner if they'll still love you when you are old and grey. You are already old and grey! She thought that to have somebody love her now would feel even better than winning the lottery. 

She heard a car door shut and peeked out to see, in the soft dusky light, a figure walking up the front pathway. She felt her whole body clench - not a good feeling - fear - like a spasm. Fortunately it passed quickly and she went to the front door, only pausing for a minute before opening it. She watched him walk towards her and smile as he approached the door. She couldn't help smiling back as she took him all in - the grey tweed jacket, the khaki pants, the black T-shirt. The strong, manly neck. The flecks of silver in his hair. His smile didn't change at all. His eyes were filled with warmth as he took her face in his hands and kissed her. 

At dinner they talked and laughed. He liked her cooking. He liked being with her. There was no need for words. .

She knew that there were few moments in life that alter you - few moments that act as a curtain between then and now. The past and the future. Few moments that were better in real life than in memory . She realized that this night was one of those moments.  She knew that pleasure can be fleeting and that love is uncertain. But at this exact moment she was happier than she had been in a very long time and she was suddenly certain that in this moment was a chance for a new beginning - a beginning that had eluded her, until now. 

  

That which is real, never changes.....

Remembering When

She knew that almost everyone had had it happen at some point in their lives. A past love would move on. A past love would marry another. A past love would be nothing more than a distant memory. But she never thought that it would happen to her - or that she would be phased by what once was. She never thought that the day would really come when she would never again look into his eyes. She never thought that she would pick up the phone and then hesitate to call his number. She never imagined that every song about a lost love would be able to bring a tear to her eyes and his face to her mind. Actually, she never thought that he would ever really belong to someone else.

She never thought it would happen - but it did. She had recently found out that the one she had loved so completely, for so many years, was about to marry another. He had found happiness in a soul other than hers. He had found someone else to complete him, while here she sat, missing him - his eyes, his face, his smile. She could see that smile, the smile that she still saw in her dreams so many nights.  And she couldn't help but wonder, why only now, now that he was no longer within her reach, did it burden her so much?

She didn't even know the past anymore. She didn't even know why the relationship had gone so wrong. Was it something she had done wrong? Where had they fallen apart? When had he lost faith in her and she in him? When did the roses wilt and fade away?

Even though the years had passed them both by - a phone call here, a chance meeting there - she knew that, no matter what, he would always have a piece of her heart. Not a day had passed that she didn't miss him - and she couldn't help but wonder if he missed her too. Did she ever cross his mind? Did he miss her voice in his ear?

And as these thoughts ran through her tangled mind, and she wiped the tears from her cheeks, she had to admit to herself that she knew he would not be happier with her. They had outgrown each other long before they had parted ways. He now had another life - one entirely separate from the one he knew with her and she with him. She, too, was now another person from the one with whom he had shared his love. He had found his own strength without her. He now loved another. Yet, for just another moment, she wished that she could look into the depths of his eyes, just one more time, and feel what she had once felt with him.

She had always thought that they would circle back around each other, and yet, fate had another hand to deal her. So why was it that she was only plagued by this when hearing that he was now lost forever? Why hadn't it bothered her when she was looking into his eyes attempting to explain why she hadn't called him back the last time he had phoned her? Why were emotions such a blessing at times and such a curse at others?

The one thing she would take from this sudden pain now was his memory; every smile seemed brighter, every touch more tender, every glance more filled with  longing - they seemed happier in her memory than she was sure they really had been. In memory they laughed more, touched more, felt more. But now her ultimate realization was that although their love may have faded away in reality, in her memory and in her heart, it still burned so brightly that she would never remember him with anything other than adoration. She also wished him nothing but ultimate happiness. No matter how much it pained her now, she wanted more for him than she could ever imagine wanting for herself.  

There are things we did in life that we wish we hadn't, and things we didn't do that we wish we had.....

Thought for the day:
Each and every one of us leaves a footprint on the world. Our footprints are a record that we were here , and they leave an insight into who we were and what we did. Our choice is in only what kind of footprint to leave.  

Whether the outcome is positive or negative, there is nothing as powerful as the truth.....

Footprints
By Beverlee Blampied (c)

A trackless railway
Secluded, stripped, abandoned
Illusory in its imprints
Its indentations of footprints
Intersecting in sections
With the phantom of past steps
And yet always the glints of stimuli
Suspended in words
In rows, in times, in places
But often the placement of footprints
Misplaced - misunderstood
While blindly searching the sky 
For signs of understanding
In denial of the price to be paid
For signing the clouds
With words of truth

Lest we forget.....

On the 11th hour       Of the 11th day             Of the 11th month

We will remember

Each of us is like no other.....

My  Personal Life Story

We all have a life story. My life story is my personal account of all the important events and experiences that have contributed to my becoming who I am today. Because my life story explains how I became who I am it plays a significant role in shaping the way I define and perceive myself.

Throughout my life journey, I have accumulated an endless number of experiences, positive and negative, the majority of which I will later have no memory or recollection. My brain cannot possibly store a detailed account of every waking minute of every day that I am alive - it must filter and prioritize in order to decide which experiences to preserve and which to discard. For this reason, my personal life story - my self narrative - consists of events that I deem important and to which I ascribe a particular meaning and that meaning is therefore highly subjective - if someone else was asked to select the most significant events from my life, they would possibly create a narrative that differs significantly from the ones I have written about.

When I compose my personal narratives (be they fiction or fact) I get to decide which events are important enough to write about. There are many ways to tell a story - even the same story. I can add anecdotes that reveal strength, I can highlight my successes and accomplishments and/or I can convey my setbacks in terms of what I learned from them.  I get to connect the dots and draw my own conclusions and, in this way, I am empowered to determine how I want to define myself, which in turn shapes my hopes and expectations for my future. 

But it is not just all about me. My hope is that each reader of my personal story (stories) - which is always a work in progress - will find a little of themselves in my words, and that in seeking to better understand myself through relating my journey, I will have given others the opportunity to better understand themselves as well.

We must set aside a certain time in each day to nourish our souls.....

Nature's Healing
By Beverlee Blampied (c)

On a cool and crisp fall day 
In step with nature's harmony
I amble through the nearby ravine -
As the bright sun shines down
Coating me with its warm rays
I communicate with nature all around
Underfoot, snap, crackle, pop
Is the crunching sound
Of my walking through dry leaves

This nature walk has no material cost

Instead, in mental dividends, it pays

As my troubles are quietly tossed 

And carried peacefully away

It's awesome how much better I feel
After allowing nature's beauty in -

A small respite for my sanity

From life's daily caustic din

In the very point of time, all of time is there.....

Thought for the day:
Each moment of my life contains all the properties of my entire life - each breath I take and each beat of my heart comes only once. I am actually the centre of a figure eight - and all that has been or that will ever be, passes through me, so I must remember, and remain aware, that every moment is permeated with meaning and purpose . 

There is no right way to say goodbye to a departed loved one.....

Renewed Connection

On the day of her mother's funeral, her legs and feet were numb from the cold as she made her way to the funeral home. She had booked a meeting with the funeral director for ten o'clock and arrived just as he came out of his wood-panelled office. He was quiet and sombre-faced, dressed in the regulation black suit, white shirt and black tie -  the typical undertaker wardrobe. He was soon to discover that nothing about her mother's two p.m. afternoon funeral was going to be typical. 

She waited, tense in her straight-backed chair, for him to consider her request. She knew it was an unusual one, but knew, also, that it must be answered. It was what her mother wanted, and she must honour her mother's request. As must he. She assured him that her mother's instructions were very clear. She watched him read her mother's letter to her, as he wet his lips, but she knew he would agree - after all, customer satisfaction was his bread and butter.  She handed him the zippered garment bag - the  purple dress had been freshly pressed; the red hat was in the hat box; the patent leather shoes were wrapped in white tissue paper.  She informed him that the one hundred pots of daffodils would arrive by noon and were to be placed down both sides of the centre aisle and circled around her mother's coffin, and a sole daffodil was to be placed in her hands. 

After the service was over, she knelt at the open casket. In the twenty-four hours since she had last seen it, her mother's face had changed. The essence of her mother had departed, leaving the death mask behind. She whispered in her mother's ear that she was sorry that she didn't get to know her better - said she had honestly tried. She waited  a few moments, half expecting a response. There was none. The mask remained intact, hiding the secrets they shared. She consoled herself with the effect her mother's outfit had had on all who had stood at her coffin.

The room was empty when she stood  up and reached for the tote she had brought with her. She removed her mother's handbag from the tote and leaned over her still body. She positioned the purse below her folded hands, slid the straps under her left hand, and pulled it through. She knew very well that her mother would never have left her house without her handbag. Inside the purse she had placed her brush and comb, her lipstick, and her change purse. She also added a black velvet box containing a letter that she had written to her mother - her long overdue words of love and farewell, full of truths that had never been spoken and now never would be - but she knew in her heart that they had both forgiven each other and that her mother could now, with all the requested necessities she had provided, continue on the last leg of her journey. "There you go, Mom " she whispered, touching her stiff, cold hands. "You are all set. There is nothing more that I can do for you." She stood still for a moment, then backed away, slowly turned and walked out of the funeral parlour room. 

The great tests of life reveal our character.....

Letting Go and Moving On

As we travel the paths of our life journey, we find out how strong we are, not through our successes, but in the moments of uncertainty that life inevitably puts in our way. Negative events - death, divorce, illness, job loss, relationship fractures - can come crashing into our world at any moment and sometimes without any warning. We then come face to face with having to make some necessary life changes. Should I move or not? Should I stay or should I go? Should I forgive or forget? The 'shoulds' then  become a deep internal craving as we try to process what we think would be the best outcome for our life.

The problem in doing this is that we often hold onto what no longer works - we often place our footprints on the same rocky path. But when we continue to hold on to something that will hurt our potential to be happy, and will thereby hurt our health, we have to look closely at why we are choosing to not move on.

Life is a balance of holding on and letting go. We might want to make the right choices but how do we know when it is truly time to let go and move on? Careers, relationships, even places we live have an expiration date. Sometimes we  hold on to things that aren't working out of fear that we won't find something better. Perhaps our greatest fear, then, is of the unknown, which is possibly why we hold on and try to manipulate our situations to try to control our surroundings. But the outcome is always the same - more pain, immense frustration, and a huge amount of guilt and blame. 

Staying in situations that are toxic to our well-being - situations that no longer serve us, will not bring happiness and meaning to our life. We need to initiate change, take a step forward and let go. There are numerous questions we can ask ourselves that will help us to make the right choice for us alone, and then be able to move on and create a solid life plan: Do my thoughts go to memories more than to the present? Do I feel alone, unheard or disrespected? Do I cry more than I laugh or love? Does the situation I'm in cause me more pain than joy? Have I stopped hoping and expecting things to get better? Am I exhausted emotionally, spiritually and physically? Do I force a smile to mask my pain? Have I lost who I am? Have I sacrificed my core beliefs and values?  Have I expected, hoped and pleaded for the person, place or situation to change? 

If we thoroughly, seriously, and honestly reflect on our answers to these questions we can choose to change the course of our path, place our footprints on an alternate route, and then move forward, trust our future and let our journey guide us to new happiness.