May 20, 2003
i just haven't quite known what to say this week.
sometimes you lose perspective, or rather, it suddenly comes back. grace and i had dinner sunday and it was so good to talk, to hear her back to her old self, after a year of jackass boy and the aftermath.
and me, well, i'm learning. i really haven't been in the mood i expected due to the pending birthday. if anything i'm surprised that i realize that i'm happy in spite of it. happy to be here, happy to have my friends, happy to be so fortunate. i embrace the battle scars.
i think next week i will write a letter to my younger self. it's a good marker. i'll file it away. maybe give it to my neice when she's older.
here i am. not quite at a big birthday, but older than i really expected to be (at least as a teenager) and, well, generally happy. who'd-a-thunk-it?
Posted by rosebaby at May 20, 2003 10:12 PM
I love your idea of writting a letter to your younger self...I wonder what I would say?
Posted by: Mona on May 21, 2003 11:30 AMhappy trails
Posted by: steve on May 21, 2003 04:53 PM
There once was a Dormouse who lived in a bed
of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red),
And all the day long he'd a wonderful view
of geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue).
A Doctor came hurrying round, and he said:
"Tut-tut, I am sorry to find you in bed.
Just say 'Ninety-nine,' while I look at you chest....
don't you find that chrysanthemums answer the best?"
The Dormouse looked round at the view and replied
(when he said "Ninety-nine") that he'd tried and he'd tried,
And much the most answering things that he knew
were geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue).
The Doctor stood frowning and shaking his head,
and he took up his shiny silk hat as he said:
"What the patient requires is a change," and he went
to see some chrysanthemum people in Kent.
The Dormouse lay there, and he gazed at the view
of geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue),
And he knew there was nothing he wanted instead
of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red).
The Doctor came back and, to show what he meant,
he had brought some chrysanthemum cuttings from Kent.
"now these," he remarked, "give a much better
view"
than geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue)."
They took out their spades and they dug up the bed
of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red),
And they planted chrysanthemums (yellow and white),
"and now," said the Doctor, "we'll soon have
you right."
The Dormouse looked out, and he said with a sigh:
"I suppose all these people know better than I.
It was silly, perhaps, but I did like the view
of geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue)."
The Doctor came round and examined his chest,
and ordered him Nourishment, Tonics and Rest,
"How very Effective," he said, as he shook
the thermometer, "all these chrysanthemums look!"
The Dormouse turned over to shut out the sight
of the endless chrysanthemums (yellow and white).
"How Lovely," he thought, "to be back in a bed
of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red)."
The Doctor said, "Tut! It's another attack!"
And ordered him Milk and a Massage-of-the-back,
and the Freedom-from-worry and Drives-in-a-car,
and murmured, "How sweet your chrysanthemums are!"
The Dormouse lay there with paws to his eyes,
and imagined himself such a pleasant surprise:
"I'll pretend the chrysanthemums turn to a bed
of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red)!"
The Doctor next morning was rubbing his hands,
and saying, "There's nobody quite understands
these cases I do! The cure has begun!
How fresh the chrysanthemums look in the sun!"
The Dormouse lay happy, his eyes were so tight
he could see no chrysanthemums, yellow or white,
and all that he felt at the back of his head
were delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red).
A.A. Milne