I remember a long time ago that someone asked me and made a few statements in the same conversation. I don't remember it all word for word, but it went something like this:
"What does Cristyne Marie want?" Then went on a tangent about me wanting to be loved and then went on to the subject of looking in the mirror and loving the person looking back at them and having a relationship with the person in the mirror in order to find out what that person wants
Of course the initial reaction to the whole thing was "What the h@!! do you know about me! Then I remembered that person saying that I was a female version of him 30 years ago
Today I know what I want and it doesn't matter whether or not I find him. I know that I have the most important thing that makes me happy...Knowing and understanding me and being able to look in the mirror and love the woman that looks back at me. I have many people in my life that love me because I'm me. Sure it'd be nice to have the "And they lived happily ever after" but in the meantime life is meant to be lived and enjoyed, so I'm taking full advantage of it
That's just wrong on EVERY level...You should be ashamed
If you want to play that way old man I'll go get Shawna and bring her out there to Phoenix and you'll have to deal with both of us in the same room at the same time
This was put in a post on another forum I'm on and it brought tears to my eyes. I couldn't help but share it here. I know I've been guilty about not taking time out to put a smile on someones face or to help someone. It's too easy to get caught up in a routine these days.
I arrived at the address where someone had requested a taxi. I honked but no one came out. I honked again; nothing. So I walked to the door and knocked. 'Just a minute', answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor.
After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 90's stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940s movie. By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets.. There were no clocks on the walls, no knick-knacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware. 'Would you carry my bag out to the car?' she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, and then returned to assist the woman. She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb.
She kept thanking me for my kindness. 'It's nothing', I told her. 'I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated'..'Oh, you're such a good boy', she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, and then asked, 'Could you drive through downtown?'
'It's not the shortest way,' I answered quickly. 'Oh, I don't mind,' she said. 'I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice'. I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening. 'I don't have any family left,' she continued. 'The doctor says I don't have very long.' I quietly reached over and shut off the meter. 'What route would you like me to take?' I asked.
For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl. Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.
As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, 'I'm tired. Let's go now'
We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico. Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her.
I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair. 'How much do I owe you?' she asked, reaching into her purse. 'Nothing,' I said 'You have to make a living,' she answered. 'There are other passengers,' I responded.
Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly. 'You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,' she said. 'Thank you.' I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life.
I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away? On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life.
We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us unaware-beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.
PEOPLE MAY NOT REMEMBER EXACTLY WHAT YOU DID, OR WHAT YOU SAID, BUT THEY WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER HOW YOU MADE THEM FEEL.
Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we are here we might as well dance.
You just don't have the right way of training us...Haven't I taught you better than that? I keep telling you, if you're sweet then we'll be putty in your hands, but your damned orneriness gets in the way
Mental note: Get a old of Shawna and make plans to get the old man out here to Cali or plan to show up at his door in AZ
Seems as though I remember there's 3 sides to every story...Yours, theirs and the truth is somewhere in between or a combination of those...Most times YOUR truth is merely YOUR OPINION
I've been practicing detachment...I think it's going pretty well. It's those that I've detached myself from that want to try and reattach themselves that's more of the problem today
The things I miss about dating are the phone calls just to say hi or the calls to say "we're going out tonight just because" but I look at it this way...I'm not running the show these days I'm just doing my part to enjoy every moment good bad or indifferent.
Dreams are mostly from the sub-conscious mind. Sometimes they're a warning of something, sometimes they help you to deal with or make a decision and then there are those that sometimes deal with our past lives (if you believe in it).
It's all in the interpretation of the dreamer. There are many books that can help with the interpretation, but mostly it's you that has to figure out the true meaning of them.
RE: Say something nice...anything. :-)
You're very sweet, but not the case at all.