Beloved

Another 5 Minute Friday ... one word, five minutes, no editing.  Ready, set, go!

Beloved

Coming down from the sugar highs from yesterday, we encountered some bumpy landings.  Boxes full of notes from friends, cautious words carving out safe Valentine wishes.

"You're swell!"

"I think you're amazing!"

"Stay cool!"

But real love isn't this tidy and neat.  When we truly love someone, sometimes it's messy and hard.  Perhaps even a little yucky.

High expectations of romance comes face-to-face with the reality of life.  Instead of kisses, there are tears.  Instead of snuggles, cold shoulders.  Instead of warm words, stilted words hidden within sad sounds.

The biggest challenge faced is not being the lover, but being the beloved.  Because to be the beloved you must be willing to BE LOVED.

Be loved in spite of insecurities.

Be loved in the face of unknowns.

Be loved instead of turning away.

I'm grateful today for love that loves us ... even when we feel unlovable.

Bare

Another 5 Minute Friday ... one word, five minutes, no editing.  Ready, set, go!

Bare

Right now, we're wearing layers.  Two shirts and a cardigan.  Capri pants and tights.  And from the look of Aaron's hamper, perhaps several pairs of socks.  It's not that it's so very cold, right now - it's just that it's not warm.

Even now as I sit here, I have a mug of coffee at hand to warm my chilly fingers and I haven't taken my shoes off because I don't want my tootsies to get cold.  As for Lydia, she's sockless, but she is also running around an awful lot right now and working up a good little sweat.

As for me, I am looking forward to Spring for one big reason:  less clothes.  I want to see some of my kids' little bare parts:  their toes, their elbows, their bonked up and bruised shins and their bony knees.  I want shed a layer or two and enjoy some sunshine on my shoulders and legs, the warmth of spring kissing our bare parts.

And, quite honestly, I want less laundry to wash.  Bare skin means only one layer of smaller bits of clothing and that means a few less loads to sort, load and fold.  Which hopefully will translate to time outside letting my bare skin breath ... my white, desperately-in-need-of-some-sun skin.

C'mon, Spring!

Gulp ...

Another 5 Minute Friday ... one word, five minutes, no editing.  Ready, set, go!

Afraid

It sits in a green binder on the dining room table, little hot pink tongues of post-it notes peeking out here and there.  I even bought a special pen with which to write in the margins, something that flows smoothly.  The pen is tucked inside, waiting to be used.

I've read several different posts about how to revise, how to edit, how to rewrite.  I printed off a plan and it's stashed in the front pocket for easy reference.  I've even set myself a date.  March 1st ... have the first revision finished.

Now if only I could make myself sit down and start it.  Oh ... I started in earnest about three weeks ago, just after I bought the neon post-its.  And then the anxiety started in.  And the worry.  And the intimidation of all those pages, pages and pages.  And the fear.

What if I don't know how to bring this project to an end?
And what if I get it edited, revised, rewritten and then no one wants it?
Or what if some publisher takes it, but no reads it?

What if?
What if?
What if?

Time to tell those "What if's" to take a hike and turn to that next page with pen and post it's in hand ... and do it.

Again ...

Trying out a new prompt:  5 Minute Friday ... one word, five minutes, no editing.  hmmmm....

Again

It's her favorite shirt, the first one she puts on as soon as the laundry is finished.  Sometimes, she doesn't even wait for me to fold it before it's slipped over her brunette bangs and worn proudly.  The cuffs are grey, in spite of my efforts and the promises of Oxyclean.  There is a definitely frayed look about the neck and it appears that she has taken to the habit of sucking on the front of her shirt.  A stain on one elbow tells me that she wore it once when we were painting or markering or play-doh-ing or chalking.  Some pinky-orange mark that has survived the repeated washings and dryings.  Her shirt that she wears even today with her turquoise glittery pants and her pink princess moon boots.  This shirt makes its appearance once (maybe twice) a week - rain or shine, home days and errand days, weekends and weekdays, spring or summer or winter or fall.  And it doesn't even matter that it's a Halloween shirt; complete with bats in flight.

It's her favorite shirt and she will wear it again and again and again until the seams let go and the fabric withers.  And even then ... she might still try.