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I am proud of my friend. When I describe her to other people, I often use my hands and show about 3″ between my pointer finger and thumb. “She is that big,” and I laugh. I don’t mean it disrespectfully, quite the opposite. My friend is petite and about 12 inches shorter than me.
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I am an average older woman who wished all her life to be heard, as well as seen. To be understood and not judged by attractiveness. To have men look into my eyes (and soul) and not stare at my cleavage.
A little clip, just made for me, so I knew where to find the thank-you cards the seniors had crafted for us.
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Like a sock in a wrong drawer, being overlooked and sometimes pushed around for no other reason than not matching.
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Angie had called in advance. I sent the dogs outside when I heard her park in the driveway. A moment later, a woman very close to my age came in and introduced herself.
between you and me
how desperately
how it aches
how desperately it aches between you and me
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I cannot recall a time in my life when I was allowed to do nothing or very little. Of course, I had resting periods, vacations, and holidays over the years but as most women know, we never really rest. There is always something to do.
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I knew I would have extra time on my hands during recovery and I decided to buy three books/booklets from fellow bloggers?
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This question is often found in fairy tales or stories, and the answer is usually associated with something in return. Just like most of us, I have often thought about the three wishes. As a young child, I hoped for a mountain of ice cream and, of course, world peace, because that’s the answer you are supposed to give. (Worldpeace, not the ice cream.)
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I had to laugh when I read today’s prompt. Like the joke about traffic, when the truck driver on the radio shouts, “There is a car driving in the wrong direction,” and the other one answers, “What do you mean ONE, hundreds are driving in the wrong direction.”