QMusings

About a week ago I mentioned that I hoped to write about an incredible gift I had received. At first I wasn’t sure I would even share the gift, as it is private and profound.

But the very nature of the gift is that it should be shared. I have struggled with how to share my very special gift. Some gifts change your life.

I wanted to share my gift with you in such a way that it changes your life for the better.

My gift begins with a story …

Once upon a time, I was Daddy’s Little Girl.

My daddy is young and handsome and strong and I know he will take care of me.

My parents are young and there isn’t much money but I don’t notice the lack.

I love Saturdays. Daddy and I get up early. Just the two of us. I am 4 years old and Mommy is still asleep and the apartment is quiet.

Daddy and I are going grocery shopping and leave early to avoid the rush.

But first we have breakfast. We don’t always go to the same place but there are always nice waitresses and sticky vinyl chairs and a booster seat.

Eating out is a big treat. Eating out with Daddy - a bigger treat!

The years go by and daddy is always working and tired and the house is a mess and everything is weird and I do my best, my very best, to be a good little girl.

I get good grades. I say please. I say thank you.

I follow the rules, I draw inside the lines, I cook, I clean. I’m good.

I can’t fix what is wrong. What is wrong with me?

Mommy and Daddy argue, Mommy cries, Daddy shouts, no one is happy.

Mommy and Daddy separate. I think this is a good thing.

I didn’t know that Daddy and I would separate, that I would no longer be his little girl.

My story is one told over and over in homes across the world.

It’s not a fairytale but it’s one that many know by heart.

Once upon a time, I was Daddy’s Little Girl.

I know the ending to this story but I’m not sure how I’ll get there. As with most of my stories, there will be forgiveness and understanding.

And love. There is always love.

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Today is Independence Day for those of us in the U ess of Ay. Independence Day.

A good and very appropriate day for a Free Write because I can write. What I want. There may be laws about what I can write or say against others if they are untrue, but I can stand on the corner and shout insults at passers-by if I want to.

I am free to EXpress myself.

Cool.

Independence. Being on my own. That was a bit step. A great step. In being on my own I learned a lot about what I was capable of and not having to beHOLDing to anyone. When you’re independent you have cut the strings and you can say NO and there is nothing anyone can do about it.

When you’re independent you can choose what you want. You don’t have to take what is given to you.

What else? Independence and being independent is good for the spirit, it flies free. I think of indepence as soaring and going my own way.

Not sure what else to write. In-de-pend-ence. Depends. No I do not want to talk about adult diapers. But maybe I should. I mean, you get older and sometimes you end up losing your independence because now you have to depend on the care of others. The kindness of strangers perhaps. Like being a “little old lady” and having to have someone help you across the street.

Older folks don’t want to stop driving because then they feel they have lost a big part of their independence. But then you sometimes have to step in and take away the keys because they are mistaking the accelerator for the brakes and going around accidentally killing people.

Eek. Negative thoughts! But sometimes you end up having to depend on others and dependence can have it’s beautiful side - a parent caring for a child, or even..a child caring for their aging parent. It’s dependence but without strings. Or maybe strings that are love. Love, I”m glad I’m ending withlove beecause love is what I think about a lot - how to love and love well and seeing the sands of time go by and wondering if I will learn the lessons I

Time over.

Feel free to check out what I wrote last year.

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I was running around the lake late last weekend and bumped into a friend I hadn’t seen in months.

I don’t know him that well so he’s not a close friend but we like each other. He’s in his sixties and used to be an ultra runner and is now struggling with bouts of depression because of poor health.

He used to be in fantastic shape, his sense of self is bound with his athleticism and he’s trying to come to terms with his new self, a self he sees as diminished.

He’s a man of habit and when I spotted him as I did my run I waved and held up both arms in exaggerated welcome.

He’s a bit reserved but he smiles and I go up for a hug - a quick one, not too close.

He wants me to continue on my run - it’s cold and he doesn’t want me to cool down too much but it’s been MONTHS since I’d seen him so I say no problem and I ask if he’s in the mood for some company and he is so we walk together.

We catch up a bit on the news, he’d heard a bit about me from the “old dudes” - they told him about how my job was going and that I wasn’t running around the lake as much.

He tells me of his mom who’s 90 and her health and how his wife is going to visit soon. She lives in another state.

He sighs and says, “I won’t bore you, it’s just complicated.”

I already know a bit of his story, how his parents’ health began to fail so he moved back to take care of them. This his father passed away and now his mother has poor liver function and his wife stayed behind.

“I’d be able to handle this all so much better if I weren’t in the shape I’m in…if I were feeling better but…”

I say, “It sounds like so much for you. It sounds like it’s all up to you.”

“It’d be easier if I just didn’t have this bad health…”

“It sounds lonely.”

He says, “It’s complicated. My wife has her friends back home, she’s happy…she’s happier there..it’s complicated…”

I ask, “What do you want? I mean, take away the complications and what would you really like?”

He asks, “What do you mean?”

I ask, “Would you like to have your wife with you?”

He says, “Well…all things being equal, yes. But it’s complicated.”

Maybe. But the words, “In sickness and in health” came to mind.

We complete his 2-mile circuit and hug. He hugs me briefly but I go in for another one and hold him for a little while longer.

Love. So simple.

Humans. So complicated.

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