I love the feeling which this card gives off. The soft puffy colors, the love that you feel between the mother and her baby. Honest, warm and protective. Pure.
Unicorns are kinda one of my "things". In High School my friend Laura and her sister Cheryl and Louise, Lori and Annie and I used to be a part of a group which consisted of well - us. We loved Unicorns and thanks to Laura we knew and I still can recall most of the words to that Moody Blues Poem - you know the one "Cold hearted Orb that Rules the Night, removes the colors from our sight..."
I still love Unicorns. If you ever came into my house you would know that. I have a wall of Unicorn pictures and two shelves of nick knacks of Unicorns. I even have a great Unicorn Rug that hangs on a wall... I have had it for 15 years and it has been on the floor once for about 15 minutes before I thought to myself - are you crazy - that is an accident waiting to happen - three boys will make any Mom think that!
I take pride in taking care of my belongings. I have memories stored in each and everyone. Souvenirs of my life - mementos of my being. When I lived in West Stockbridge with Dave we moved into his house and my life was stored in a huge attic on the third floor waiting to come out and delight my senses.
My kids call me a hoarder - I am not a hoarder. The primary bulk of myself is decorative, breakables, art and books. That is topped only by my kitchen things which are pans and gadgets and pretty plates we only used on holidays but which we are now "big" enough to use everyday - that is unless I am sliding pieces randomly off of the top of the refrigerator (Ouch)! And somehow clothes more clothes than one person needs surely!
My Dad thinks I should be a decorator the way that I like to set up and display my things around. Never happy even when everything is in its place. Always adjusting pieces or rearranging whole rooms in the blink of an eye. I just like to be surrounded by my stuff. Recalling memories, people and events keep me grounded, alive and whole.
For me your stuff is your stuff. Mine is irreplaceable to me. No disposable life for me. I think it is because when my family dissolved I became disposable. My brother and I used to have a whole room just for our toys outside of our bedroom. Our parents would transform the dining room into a boxing ring and put boxing gloves on us so that we could play. My brother was younger than me and he had a really touchy nose, so it would usually end in a bloody match.
When we left Briggs Ave, our toys went into my grandparents attic and we had few of our things with us. Our life packed up and never to be seen again. That made me sad as a child. I think that is why I like to have my stuff.
Memories are precious to me. Life is precious to me. Family and friends are beyond precious to me, they keep me balanced and alive. My boys may joke around with me and vent their hostilities and sometimes I don't know if their venting is at me or not and I am not afraid to ask directly if it is or if they are truly mad at me. They usually are not mad at me, (although they do get irritated with my "perkiness" and my ability to speak a chapter of words without taking a breath! We all communicate or do not communicate in our own ways.
So this Sunday morning, as I wake up and listen to Hendrix and his Band of Gypsy's from a cassette which I have owned since the 80's, remember my past, reflect upon life and family. Happy, at peace and knowing that the choices which I made early on were okay for me. Not the dream that I had but I would never dream of not having my life, my friends, here and past, my boys and my loves. I do not know how many people can say that and mean it.
Jimi singing "Home sweet home.....walking down the street singing........
Don't be afraid to sing your song, walk your walk and live your life!!!