Pieces of the Whole
The other day I was bemoaning how quickly I’d eaten a fresh-baked batch of cinnamon rolls.
“That’s the problem with living alone,” I said forlornly to my friends as we sat knitting.
“No,” replied Heather, the sharpest of the assembled group, “that’s the privilege.”
Memories echo
Their sound is louder
Than the lost moment
That created them.
Photo courtesy Pixabay
I’ve spent some time, not a lot, but some, imagining what my life would be like now if I’d made different decisions.
It happens most often at night, when I’m alone and not much is on TV, none of the books I have appeal to me and I simply cannot play one more game of solitaire on my phone. I sit and ponder. What makes me who I am? My experience, my heart, my intentions, my choices? I suppose all of it.
Some of my worst decisions have led to the greatest breakthroughs in personal growth. Would I be a better person if I had not done such a foolish thing?
Or would I be making the same mistakes, leaving myself with a level of immaturity I can’t get past? Or is it those mistakes that led to the unwise behavior in the first place? How do our thoughts, actions, beliefs and fate all play together?
The consequences we face are sometimes unknown, unforeseeable. There are those seemingly small errors in our ways that lead to lifelong reminders of that one errant deed, and potentially catastrophic actions that pass by almost unnoticed…and we forget…until there is a gentle reminder, and we breathe a sigh of relief that it didn’t happen the way it could have.
There are those who face mental illness, and they sometimes make what seem to them like logical decisions based on misperception because of the way their brain functions. I’m not talking criminal behavior here, although that certainly does apply, but day to day actions that have an impact on happiness and quality of life.
I could overanalyze this, because here’s the bottom line: as much fun as it is to watch a movie where someone is given a chance to go back in time and change the path of their life, that would be a huge gamble. What if I hadn’t married the man who betrayed me and married the one who got away instead? You probably don’t know the second man any better than you knew the first when you married him. It could have been an entirely different sort of disaster.
I am who I am. If it hadn’t been this mistake, it would have been another. I still would be me. And I’m okay with that.
Image Credits: © sapunkele — fotolia
Da kittums, dat’s who.
I confess, I tried to set up a cute picture of one of my cats looking in the mirror for today’s prompt (Primp). It didn’t work. I guess they aren’t as vain as their mama.
![AdobeStock_98604038 [Converted]](https://myworldwithwords.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/05/adobestock_98604038-converted.png?w=204&h=300)
I spend less time these days in front of mirror than I did years ago, although of course, in my younger years I was working with better material. Most of us hit our peak before 50. It’s just a fact. These days, looking at my neck depresses me.
Fixing myself up used to be a lot more fun.
When I get my hair cut, I make sure I’m wearing the full visage. Too much time staring at that mirror under those lights. I don’t know what it is about salons and retail stores, but the lighting is always so harsh. Okay, salons, maybe they need it to accurately see what they’re doing, and I’ll forgive them for that reason. But why should The Gap make me feel bad about myself when I’m trying on jeans?
It isn’t the visible signs of aging that concern me as much as the time that is passing by without achieving what I believe I’m capable of doing. Yet I hold fast to my belief in the power of subtle changes.
There are days when your world might completely turn around for the better, and it’s possible all good things will come to you in short order. Generally, however, the gifts in life are given to us one at a time, until one day we look back and say, “hey, my life is growing stronger.”
Where I am today is far better than where I was five years ago. Some of it feels the same, but the reality is, it simply isn’t. Yes, there are stresses in my life, but I believe things will work out. That’s been my experience in far worse circumstances than what I’m facing today.
Thank God for the power of experience. It’s–no other word for it here–a relief. Okay, other words fit, too–it’s a comfort. It’s confidence. It helps you sort out what matters. You don’t worry so much about what’s going on outside your control.
But today I think I’ll spend a little extra time in front of the mirror and see where that gets me. A little primping might do my heart good.
Image Credit: © sapunkele — Adobe Stock
Oh, blessings and misery. I confess, I like cooler weather. I get weary of downright cold weather, but still, I’ll take a stretch of freezing cold over an extended period of triple-digit highs almost anytime. So here it is, a week into November, and we’re still reaching the low 70s every single day.
I want my sweater weather! I like the feel and look of downy soft turtlenecks. I feel cozy and comforted. I like wearing ankle boots with my jeans. For whatever reason, I believe I’m stronger, more in control, with them. And all in all, what I like better, looks better.
I don’t want a sunny Thanksgiving or a balmy Christmas day. I want a nip in the air, days when I can’t forget my jacket, cold air that makes cheeks and even my nose a little red.
How we each feel about weather is a funny thing. I have friends who would never move away from the Southwest, despite the extremes down there. Others I know live in Minnesota (my home state) and while they grumble about the snow and deep freeze, they wouldn’t think of locating elsewhere. I’m in a state where we have four seasons, something I’m grateful for, although I wouldn’t mind a slightly longer fall and winter. These past couple of years those seasons have been annoyingly short.
I suppose our preferences are due in part to the priorities in our lives. If you love the outdoors, you may prefer the heat. If your favorite activities include reading, needlework or playing chess, the excuse to stay inside because of dropping temperatures may be welcome.
Whether you find it more challenging to walk your dog in the heat, with mosquitoes dive-bombing and sweat dripping down your brow, or in the snow, with your toes going numb and the sniffles that won’t go away, is part personality, part upbringing and likely part physiology. I’m betting some of us are just better suited for the cold. Maybe it’s an extra layer of fat. I don’t pretend to know.
Regardless of the reason for my preferences or the lingering warm weather, I’m begging for a little frost overnight and ongoing temps below 60 degrees. This perpetual heat is irksome.
Photos courtesy of Pixabay
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