Storybook Love 101

A few years ago, on the request of my daughter, I was reading the book, "The Fault in Our Stars" by John Green.  I was only a few chapters in when I sent a text to my daughter telling her that I knew how it was going to end.  I explained what I thought was going to happen to each character, and then, after a brief moment, I received a responding text from her saying, "I hate you."  She and I love going to movies together but I think she may sometimes consider gagging me because I always figure out how it is going to end long before it's over.  The reason is very simple, Storybook Love can have only two possible endings.  Either the death of the relationship (sometimes the literal death of one or both characters) or "Happily Ever After" . . . unless there's a sequel.  But to complicate matters, if the book is any good, there has to be some deception involved, some veiling of the truth by the author in order for there to be any suspense. 

Storybook romance has a formula.   I call it the L-O-V-E formula.  L=Limitations, O=Obstacles, V=Vulnerability, and E=Elusiveness.  

In order to have a love story the characters must be faced with limitations through their society, their circumstances, their location, etc.  In order for the characters to be together they must overcome obstacles in their relationship.  At least one of the characters must be vulnerable so that the other can be protective. These roles can be switched back and forth during the development of the plot so that each character shows their own vulnerability.  Before Stephanie Meyer wrote the final book of the "Twilight" series, I told my daughter that if Bella became a vampire and was no longer vulnerable, the story was over.  That is, unless, Bella had a child and the child was vulnerable.  If she and Edward had a child who was vulnerable, that would make them vulnerable through their love for her.  She informed me that she was in contact with the author through the author's website and that the author had assured her that vampires could not have children, so Edward could not produce a child, so I had to be wrong.  Guess what??????  Read the last book.  The final element to a storybook romance is Elusiveness.  Just when you think they are going to get together, something else happens to pull the lovers apart.  This allows the story to continue.  Once all limitations have been eliminated, obstacles have been overcome, vulnerabilities have been turned into strengths, and elusiveness has ended, the story is over.  

So does "Happily Ever After" really exist?  If it does, it is very boring and no one wants to read about it.   

Daisy's Last Long Walk

In a previous blog, entitled, "Daisy's Story," I wrote about my Yellow Labrador Retriever and her difficult life before she came to live with us.  She has been with us for nine years now and since we think she was two when she came to live with us, we suspect that she is about eleven now.  On Saturday, we decided to take a walk with some visiting relatives to both the beach and the town.  Daisy used to walk with me on long walks about town, but lately, her walks have been limited to going to the beach and back.  So while I was a little worried about taking her on this walk, her excitement at possibly being included persuaded me to let her come.

Well, we walked down to the beach and she happily wagged her tail and enjoyed when people admired her beauty.  But on the way back, at the crossroad, she tried to lead us back toward the house.  She hesitated when we told her to keep going toward town, but she bravely walked on.  I knew we were going to cut through her favorite park and thought that might reignite her usual enthusiasm.  But when we got to the park, she laid down and refused to go any further.  My husband told me to walk with our guests to the town and that he and Daisy would meet us there in a little bit.  As I saw her watch me walk away, I realized that no amount of love can stop her from getting old.  Her eyes didn't leave me as the distance between us widened and I felt like I was abandoning her.

We got to the town and stopped to get some ices.  When I looked outside, I saw that Daisy had finally made it.  The shop worker was nice enough to give me a bowl of water for her.  We sat outside the store and I pet her as she breathed heavily and drank from the bowl.  The walk back home must have been excruciating for her.  Her hind legs just couldn't keep up with her front legs.  Occasionally, her hind legs seemed to be on the verge of collapsing.  As we walked up the last block, you could see herself willing her body to keep going.  She knew how close she was to home.

Back in the house, she drank some more water and rested.  I held her head on my lap and told her I was sorry.  The days of her long walks with me are over.  There is still some time left for us together, but I just don't know how I will ever face those days without her.  I am grateful to have been lucky enough to be the person she loved best and I will never forget her.

First Impressions

June is a time for moving on.  Graduations are in full swing and young people are looking forward to starting the next segment of their lives.  This makes me reflect back on the time I graduated from high school and the tears and fears we shared as friends parted, perhaps for the last time.  We were so excited to move on and yet we didn't quite want to leave all that we knew and felt comfortable with behind.  Those who really knew me, saw past my appearance and knew me for who I really was.  Others, who hadn't bothered to get to know me, left with their impressions of me as well.  But the next step that awaited each of us, was a fresh start.  We would all meet people, perhaps for the first time, who hadn't known us since Kindergarten.

What would these new people think of me?  What would be their first impression?  These were the thoughts that went through my head at the time, and recently, I was talking to my son about the very same thing.  I told him that first impressions will be based off of your physical appearance.  The only thing that is different today is that, perhaps with social media, some of us get to know each other before we actually see each other.  Impressions can be formed before we meet these days.  Yet when we do meet, we try to align the physical appearance that is presented before us with what we may already know about that person. Sometimes, a person may be disappointed in your appearance.  They may have simply expected something else and that is something that we need to accept and then put aside.

When people meet me, my impression of their first impression is . . . she's short.  Short people are at a disadvantage, people don't see eye to eye with us.  (That's funny.)  But really, I feel that when people meet short people they think, she's not very intelligent or capable and perhaps, not worth knowing.  I am sure other people feel that way too, whether if it is because of their weight, the color of their skin, or their facial features that may not be what society considers beautiful or handsome.  Everyone fears that they will be judged by how they look.  Even the beautiful people, they don't want the world to judge them by their looks alone.  Along with good looks comes the impression that they think they are better than the rest of us aesthetically challenged or impaired people.  The rest of us might decide from the start that we aren't going to be friends with people who think they are better than us.  First impressions.  First miss-impressions.

So as you start the rest of your life, remember that there are second impressions.  That is where you let people know who you really are.  When they get to know who you really are, they forget their first impression of you.  Take the summer to think about how you want people to "see" you.  Each person has many facets to their personality.  Show the ones that you want people to see.  Build your self-confidence by understanding that first impressions don't have to be lasting impressions.  The lasting impression is up to you.

Suicide and Choice

When I was in college in the late 1970's, I loved to read.  My favorite book was "The Awakening" by Kate Chopin.  The reason it was my favorite was because the book had been deemed so scandalous in 1899 that libraries were ordered to take it off of their shelves.  The idea that a woman, whom by all appearances "had it all" according to the society of her time, might still be unhappy, was considered "objectionable."  The real source of her unhappiness came from the lack of choice that was allowed to a woman at the turn of the century.  The main character, Edna Pontellier, is the wife of a wealthy man, she has two healthy young sons, she spends her summers on an island off of New Orleans listening to music and watching her children play, but she wants more.  In spite of her efforts to find adventure and excitement, she comes to the realization that the idea of choice for her is limited to one.  She can either live the life that has been laid out for her or she can take her own life and escape the prison her life has become.  Not to spoil the ending or anything, but she chooses the latter.

This book actually did help to create options and choices for women when they decided to read it in spite of the authorities of the time.  In the years that have followed, women have and continue to fight for more choices.  Choice really is the key factor.

This was such a powerful lesson for me that it has stayed with me all of this time.  One of the reasons is because suicide is something that I have contemplated at times.  First when I was about fifteen and then again at the age of twenty-one.

So whereas I am not a doctor, a therapist, or even a life coach, I am a survivor.  Not many people know this about me and I am sure that many are shocked to hear it.  The reason I feel compelled to write about this now is I met an old friend yesterday who told me that her son took his own life.  She seemed hesitant to tell me and my instinct was to share with her my thoughts on the matter.  Since yesterday, I have continued to think about her and her son.  I've been thinking about other people I know who have lost members of their families to suicide.  I've been thinking about my own experiences.   So I have decided to write my thoughts down in this blog with the hope that it will help someone else out there.

If you are thinking about taking your own life, there are only two things you need to know.  First, if you choose life, time will pass, things will change and you will be happy some day.  Only you can make that choice and only you can make your dreams come true.  Through life, anything is possible.  Be courageous and live.  Take each day and find a reason that it was worth living that day.  That reason could be simply the feel of a breeze against your face, it could be the chance to read another chapter in a good book, or it could be sitting down and eating your favorite dessert.  Simple every day things that are only possible if you chose life.   The second thing is that if you are taking your life to get revenge on someone, you won't be around to enjoy that revenge.  It is a much better revenge to survive and thrive in spite of those who have hurt you.

If you have lost someone who has chosen to end his or her pain in this way, then I want you to know it's not your fault.  Sometimes the pain is so overwhelming in a person's mind that once they decide to end their life, they feel peace for the very first time.  If you know someone who is thinking about suicide, spare nothing in trying to stop them.  But if in the end they do take their own life, you need to know that it was their choice. Their death does not mean they didn't live.  Don't be afraid to speak their names and to talk about their lives. They were and are loved; they loved and lived.  They should be remembered and live in your memories. Don't bury your memories with them.  Healing can only come through sharing with others and with the acceptance that you cannot control another person's actions.  But you can choose how to live the rest of your life and your choice can affect and help others.

Swings Take You Places

When I was a little girl, we had a metal swing set in our backyard that had come from an old school.  The swing set was higher and bigger than the kind my friends had in their yards.  I would sit on the swing for hours, swinging back and forth.  I'd look up at the sky and imagine touching my toes to the clouds. Each swing would bring me just a little closer.  I didn't fear that the swing set would topple over because my father had cemented the frame into the ground.  As I swung, I could hear the swing set groan.  When I went forward, it said, "Ye-e-e-es."  When I swung back to the ground again, it said, "No-o-o-o."  "Ye-e-e-es," "No-o-o-o."  "Ye-e-e-es."  "No-o-o-o."  So close each time, but always defeated by gravity.

My neighbor, Marsha, had a smaller more typical metal swing set.  I remember we would go on the double-swing, the kind that has seats that face each other.  We would stand on each side opening and let the little kids sit on the seats.  We'd swing from side to side and sing a song that we made up.  It went something like this, "We're going to Candy Town, We're going to Candy Town.  There's going to be candy all around, We're going to Candy Town."  We would change the "Candy Town" part to maybe, "Toy Town" at times.  But wherever we were going, when the swing stopped, that's where we'd be. We would walk around her yard and imagine all of our favorite things around us, we could almost taste the candy . . .

I spent much of my childhood on a swing and when I had children of my own, one of the first things I bought was a metal swing set.  I taught them the "Candy Town" song and we visited it often.  We moved from that house when my daughter was 13 and my son was 8.  At our new house we bought one of those wooden swing sets with a "fort" platform attached that took up almost our entire back yard.  While they both played with the fort, it was my daughter who never stopped swinging. Even in high school, her friends would come over and they would sit on the swings and enter their own little world.  She was very upset when we took the swing set down while she was away at college.  But it didn't make sense to have it take up so much of our small yard for the few times that it was used.

We went to visit her recently where she lives now.  She is in graduate school in a southern state and wanted to get a porch swing for the house she rents.  She decided that instead of the more common wooden bench swing, she wanted one of those "Bohemian" net swings that envelope your body as you sit in them.  We did buy one for her and when her father takes her back in August, he will hang it from her porch.  She intends to study in her swing as it bounces and swings from the spring and chain it is attached to.

One of my first memories of swings was seeing a swing in my grandmother's neighbor's yard.  I looked out of a window and could see one of those self-standing wooden swings with a frame built around it.  It only consisted of two benches facing each other with a wooden platform for your feet in between.  Many times I imagined myself on that swing.  Years went by before I saw a swing like that again.  It was at an Amish outdoor furniture store in upstate New York.  I sat on it and swung back and forth.  I wanted to buy it for our little summer home in the mountains, but I couldn't rationalize spending $600 on a swing I would only use a few weekends a year while I still had children to raise.  After all, children are expensive and I was "only" a stay-at-home mom.  So I didn't buy that swing.

But now, another summer  is approaching and I am looking around my small yard at home once again and trying to figure out if there is a place that I could put one of those swings.  Every year I come to the same conclusion, there's no place for it, but that doesn't seem to stop me from looking again the next year.  So maybe this will be the year.  Maybe I will buy myself that swing and sit on it for hours again.  Maybe I will visit places in my imagination and write about them in my books.  "Ye-e-e-es," "No-o-o-o," "Maybe?"

One door closes, another one opens.

So if you've been reading my blog at all, you know that I am soon to be an empty-nester.  My daughter is in graduate school in another state and my son is about to head off to college this fall.  At this time in my life it is easy to get caught up in the past and what I (we) are leaving behind.  It's even getting hard to watch the old videos of when they were little because all it seems to do is bring me to tears.  I spent so much of my life looking forward to being a mother and then actually raising my kids, it's hard to see purpose in my life beyond them.  True, I have my writing and the possibility of getting my novels published someday, as well as finally having the time to really dive into my family history research, but there will never be anything in my life as fulfilling as being a mother.

Now here I am reaching the pinnacle of my life and about to crest the mountain and see what's on the other side.  Time to leave those tears behind and embrace the journey ahead.  After all, those years of raising kids weren't always easy ones.  There were many moments of uncertainty about how to proceed for their best benefit and for mine.  In spite of reading every book I could get my hands on about raising kids, in spite of taking parenting classes, in spite of all of my efforts, I made mistakes.  But in the end, I did achieve what I had hoped I would.  They are both wonderful people.  They are both the type of person that brings "color" to the lives of others.  They are both people who will LIVE their lives and not just stand by and watch as other's live theirs.  I am very proud of them and it is a relief to have all those worries behind me.

I know what you are thinking, you who have adult children, that the worries are never going to be behind me.  Maybe that is true, but it is those years when they are being molded and guided that help them stand up to whatever life throws at them.  Certainly, my husband and I will always be there for them, a safety net spread out below in case they fall.  But I believe they are prepared to lead their own lives now and that they will each leave their mark on this world.  I can't wait to see what they will achieve!

In the meantime, I took my son to get his tuxedo for his prom last night.  I smiled as I saw the handsome man that he had become.  Someday a young lady is going to be really lucky to have him in her life.  He has grown to be a sensitive, smart, funny, and caring young man.  I remember always being aware as I was raising him that I was not raising a boy, I was raising a man.  I am so proud of the man he has become.

Tonight, however, I am flying down to visit my daughter and in a few days we will embark on a road trip as we drive her car back home for the summer.  I will treasure these days and imprint them on my memory to keep them with me for the rest of my life.  This summer she is traveling to the Amazon to learn the language Kichwa and to gain a better understanding of the culture of the people who speak the language.  She's come a long way from the nights when I would tuck her into bed while reading her her favorite book about the rain forest.  She has always wanted to save the animals and trees.  If anyone can do it, she can; and if she can't, I know that she will at least save the memory of what the rain forest was for those generations to follow.  I am looking forward to seeing her spend her life researching something she is so passionate about and sharing her research with young people who will call her Professor.

Baggage

While you are busy making excuses for your life because of the baggage your parents left you with, remember one thing:  Today you are packing the baggage your children will carry for life.

There is work to be done.  You need to start by examining why you sabotage relationships, careers, future plans, or whatever else you are worrying about. Where does it come from?  I'm talking about your insecurities, your feelings of not being good enough, and your feelings of fear of failure.  We all have them to one degree or another.  Perhaps there is some part of it that is inherited and beyond anyone's control, but there is always part that is learned.  It is learned through disappointment, through fear, through anger, and through abandonment and/or loss.  Recognize it and then evaluate it.  The wrongs that were done to you as a child were done to you by people who were also impaired by their own baggage that was left to them from their own parents.  Each generation, whether if they repeat the mistakes of past generations or swing so far on the pendulum to make the exact opposite mistakes, each perpetrate injuries onto the next generation. Why does this happen?  It happens because none of us are perfect.

The second thing you need to do is forgive those who hurt you and loaded your shoulders down with baggage that didn't belong to you.  Forgive them because they didn't know any better.  Then recognize that you do know better now.  And with that realization comes responsibility to change what has been done before. The buck stops here.

You can not change the past, but you can change the future.  No matter how difficult facing these issues may be for you now, the payoff is enormous! The more work you do to unpack that baggage that has been passed down through generations, the less baggage your children will have to deal with.  What a beautiful gift to give to the generations to come.

Sticks and Stones

The thing about learning a life lesson is that when you are learning the lesson, learning it is the farthest thing from your mind.  You are too caught up in the drama, the pain, the fear, and the anxiety to say to yourself, "Someday this experience is going to be a valuable lesson that I can share with others."  But that is what ends up happening.

It could be a little thing like when I was worrying if my son would ever take his first steps.  He was already fourteen months old and getting way to big for me to carry around everywhere.  Even though someone told me, "When he gets married, you're not going to have to carry him down the aisle."  I still worried about it.  But low and behold, within that month, my son was walking around and getting into trouble taking apart anything that was within his reach.  So the lesson was, everything will come in its own time.

But sometimes the lesson is bigger.  When I was PTA Co-President for the elementary school that my children attended, I learned that the rhyme we learned as children, "Sticks and stones may break your bones, but names will never hurt you," simply isn't true.  Sticks and stones may hurt you on the outside, but names and words can hurt you even worse on the inside.  This is something that bullies learn early and by the time they are adults, they are very good at it.  Names and words have the power to destroy a person's reputation, regardless of if they are true or not.  And just like children, other adults are afraid that the bully's attention will turn from the victim and onto them, so they hide behind their fear.

As a young mother who had a college education and who had worked for years before having children, it was a difficult transition when I decided to become a stay-at-home mom.  I missed having the feeling of accomplishment and respect that I had enjoyed in the workforce.  I loved my children, but I also needed something for me.  So I turned to volunteering to be able to use my creative and organizational skills to help within my community.  I thought that as a volunteer I would be able to "make my own hours."  But what I found was that those hours were 24 hours a day.  All the time that I invested was rewarded with parents calling me at all hours to complain about everything from their children buying erasers at a book fair to the policies and procedures of the Board of Education.  I never heard a word of thanks for my efforts from anyone.  I didn't know that when I decided to take a position on the other side of the table at those PTA meetings, that I would become the object of every one's anger and frustration.

A month into being co-president, a child fell from a piece of old playground equipment and broke his wrist.  Our PTA had a committee that was in the process of asking for better ground cover under all playground equipment.  The mother of the child was understandably upset and wanted to hire an inspector to come in and evaluate the playground equipment to see if it was up to standards.  She went to the Board of Ed and they told her that they had the playground equipment inspected every year and that they would not give her permission to hire her own inspector.  At the mother's request, I went to the Board of Ed and asked them to allow the PTA to hire an inspector.  They told me that if I hired an inspector and that inspector trespassed on school property without their permission, that they would arrest the inspector and anyone who had signed the check hiring him.  Then I called several superior members of the PTA within my town, county, and state.  I was told that if I signed a check to hire this inspector without the permission of the Board of Ed, my school would lose its PTA charter and that all the money in our account would be taken away and spread out to other PTAs.

So I told the mother of the child that I couldn't sign a check to hire an inspector.  I also told her at a PTA meeting that if she still wanted to hire an inspector, we could ask other parents to voluntarily donate cash to her to help her pay for the inspector.  She refused, she wanted me to sign that check and nothing else would make her happy.  But I couldn't do that.

Over the next two years that I was co-president, she spread around to the community of parents that I didn't care about the safety of our children.  Every PTA meeting was hijacked by her bullying and people stopped coming to meetings.  People on the PTA board started to resign.  The Board of Ed and the principal of the school told me to get this woman under control.  The principal even accused me of "letting the tail wag the dog."  So the parents turned against me and the administration of the school turned against me, but there was nothing that I could do.  I wanted to quit too, like the rest of the board was doing.  But the PTA told me that if our school didn't have a board consisting of at a minimum, a president, and treasurer, and a secretary, they would take the charter away from our school and, again, all the money in our account away from our children.  So I stayed.

I cried every night and I lost a lot of friends and felt very alone.

But I knew who I was.  I knew that I cared about every child in that school and every child in this world.  I knew that I had done everything that I could to help this woman in spite of her bullying, name calling, and accusations.  So I kept on going.  I did what had to be done and worked very hard to make sure that the PTA programs still went on as they were needed.  It was always difficult to get enough volunteers to help at these programs and now it was even more difficult.  But I kept them going.

Time passed.  The twin towers were attacked and life changed for all of us.  I became very ill, but somehow survived.  Thank goodness I didn't die, because all of a sudden the PTA parents surrounded and supported me.  They made dinners for my family, they sent flowers, gifts and cards with words of encouragement.  They took over all the programs and kept things going for the kids.  Even the principal and administrators sent me flowers and cards with words of thanks.  Okay, so maybe I had to almost die to get those feelings of accomplishment and respect that I had missed from my days in the workforce.  But it did feel good to finally hear that people had seen what I was doing and how hard I was working and that they appreciated all that I was trying to do for their children.

Eventually people saw for themselves who I was and who she was.  They made their own determinations based on their own experiences over the years.  In the end, I learned that in time the truth comes out in the wash if you keep putting one foot in front of the other.  It is very easy to quit and hide when your reputation is attacked and lies are spread about you. But the only way people will know the truth is if you show it to them every day with your head held high.   It was one of the most difficult life lessons that I have ever had to learn.  The experience changed who I am and how I live my life.  That is what a life experience does.

Time and experiences change people.  From the outside you may still look the same, but on the inside, where those "names" injured you, you change. So here I am sharing this with you and hoping that my life lesson helps you realize two things.  First, that words do cause injuries and, second, that if you are a victim of bullying, even if everyone else deserts you, stand up for yourself and don't give away your power to the bully.  Because if you do, the bully wins.

Toenails Have a Purpose

As a young girl, I lived in a family of seven with a father, mother, three brothers and one sister.  We had a nice home in a good neighborhood with a good school district, food to eat and clothes on our backs. But it seemed that the other children in our neighborhood had things we didn't have.  We didn't have many toys, we only went on a couple of vacations over the years, we didn't have birthday parties, we never ate in a restaurant, and my mother sewed a lot of our clothes herself.  My father worked hard as a Machinist who worked in a factory and, having been a child of the depression era, he lived a frugal life.

At the start of 3rd grade, he bought me a new set of crayons for school.  They were these imitation wax crayons that didn't color as well as other crayons.  They weren't what the other kids had, Crayola boxes of 64 crayons with the crayon sharpener built into the back.  But they were new and they were mine.  Being the fourth out of five children, many of the things that I did have were hand-me-downs. So having brand new crayons meant a lot to me.

One day our teacher, Mrs. Williams, who was very close to the end of her teaching career, asked us to split up into our reading groups.  There were cardboard containers on the windowsill that had soft covered reading books that were color coded to various levels of reading ability.  I was supposed to go over to get a reading book and then join my group at a round table at the back of the room.  But first I was putting away my crayons when two boys, Mark and Jeff (those are their real names, so if they ever read this they will know who they are . . .), took my crayons and threw them under a heavy wooden bookcase filled with books at the front of the room.  Of course, I started crying and tried to retrieve my crayons, but some had rolled too far under the bookcase for me to reach.  As the boys laughed, I tried to move the heavy bookcase to get behind it.

When the bookcase fell, it fell quickly.  All of me got out of the way except for the big toe on my right foot.  The heavy bookcase fell onto my toe and crushed it.  The sound brought Mrs. Williams running to the front of the room.  I suppose old Mrs. Williams, or maybe the boys, lifted the bookcase off of my toe but I don't remember.  I do remember her carrying me to the nurse's office and I could tell that her whole body was shaking as she tried to carry me.  The nurse called my mother, but my mother didn't drive and my father was at work.  Instead, my mother sent my 19 year old brother to come and get me.  He attempted to carry me all the way home, but he had to put me down once or twice on my broken toe so that he could rest.  Ouch!

My mother called the doctor and he told her to soak my toe.  That night my toenail fell off and I learned that there is a purpose to toenails.  Toenails cover a million nerve endings and without a toenail, any time something touches your toe, your toe screams!  I couldn't go to school for a while and classmates would bring my work home to me.  I remember doing workbooks with my mother at home and enjoying the time she spent with just me.

Eventually, I went back to school but I never did find all of my crayons that year.

Epilogue:

When my daughter was ready to go to school, the school sent home a list of supplies that she would need.  The list included a box of 36 crayons.  Instead of buying her a box of 36 crayons, I bought her the New Crayola box of 96 crayons with the built-in crayon sharpener.  After all, you can never have too many colors!  Right?  Well, that's what I thought, until one day she came home from school with a poor grade on a test.  When I asked her why she had done so poorly she said, "I dropped my crayons and it took so long to pick them up, I didn't have time to finish the test."

The next year, I bought her the box of 36 crayons that the school requested.  This brings to mind the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears.  Sometimes having too little or too much of something has its consequences, when perhaps all we need is "just right" in the middle.

Several years ago I was on a ladies Bowling league when I met an elderly lady who was on one of the teams.  It turned out she was Mark's mother.  I told her about the crayons and the bookcase and she went home and asked her son about it.  She came back the next week and told me that he said he didn't remember it happening.  I said, "That's because it wasn't his toe that broke."

A Day of Her Life

She spent the day worrying.  She worried about her mother.  She worried about her children.  She worried about her husband.  She worried about her future.  She felt sick with the worry.  She didn't take the time to go for a quiet walk because she was worried that there wasn't enough time.  She didn't enjoy her lunch because she was worried.  She snapped at her children because she was worried.  She argued with her husband because she was worried.  She didn't move forward with her dream because she was worried about failing. She worried about what others would think about her. Her head started to ache and her stomach tied itself in knots because she was worried.  She lost a day of her life in worry and what did she gain?  Nothing.  What did she lose?  She lost a day of her life.