Paint yourself a beautiful day.
Paint yourself a beautiful day.
I found the words
Nose? I don’t think that one is supposed to count so I looked again and came up with these.
I kind of hate word searches.
It’s a beautiful fall day in 1973, sunshine pouring through the campus medical office window where Lara sits with her back straight, hands folded primly in her lap, waiting for her examination results.
“You are definitely pregnant”, the doctor tells her. “Four or five weeks along. Do you know what you want to do about this?”
Do? Lara tries to clear her head and imagine what exactly people are expected to do in this kind of situation. Cry? Throw a party? Why does the doctor care what she’s going to do?
“Was this pregnancy planned? Is your husband going to be okay with it?”
No, not planned, Lara tells her. Not discussed, not anticipated. Big surprise, really. So much for the diaphragm as birth control. Throwing that out now I guess. Stupid thing. They stare at each other for a moment in silence.
“If you decide to terminate this pregnancy, it’s best to do it now. You will need to let me know as soon as possible so we can make the arrangements”
Lara’s heart thuds and she moves her clasped hands up across her belly. An abortion, that’s the option Lara is supposed to be considering, and immediately she knows that for her it isn’t an option at all.
“Oh God, no, I’m really happy about this!” She supposes the doctor can be forgiven for not figuring out that her shell-shocked expression is an indication of joy. And if Stan isn’t thrilled with the news that he’s going to be a parent before his university semester is over, oh well. Lara decides she won’t dwell on that.
Because it doesn’t matter. She is going to have this baby. The doctor gives her a huge smile, as if to say she’s made the right decision, and tells her to come back and see her in a month.
When Stan picks her up ten minutes later he doesn’t even ask. Laras beaming face tells him everything he needs to know.
(This is in response to this weeks Trifecta Challenge)
Aren’t they beautiful? Do they not have the most delightful mushroom name ever?? Much easier to say inky caps than coprinopsis atramentaria. They’re also known as tippler’s bane because if they’re consumed with alcohol they’re poisonous. They probably won’t kill you, but symptoms include facial reddening, nausea, vomiting, malaise, agitation, palpitations and tingling in the limbs; or, in other words, wishing you were dead.
Yesterday I talked to a man who had only one leg. He came rolling into the Vision Centre in his wheel chair with a beaming broad smile on his face. It was a smile so fiercely beautiful I had to smile back. I don’t know how anyone who looked at him could hope to do otherwise.
While his glasses were being adjusted, cleaned and repaired, (all the helpful mundane things we do all day), we had one of those little chats that strangers are prone to having. Is it getting any warmer out there as the day goes on? Do you ever remember a spring so late? He told me it was snowing again and he said it with such delight. You should come out to the parking lot and see it! All those gigantic flakes just floating down. You can catch them on your glove – they’re like tiny bits of lace. Fragile, but captivating and wonderful to look at. So perfect it’s amazing!
But in my head I could see our driveway, and the snow shovel, and the banks and the horrible roads. So I gave my head a shake to get rid of those pictures in it. I said we don’t think to look at the fascinating side of things often enough, do we? It’s so easy to focus on the negative instead. But you’re right, this kind of gentle snowfall has a certain charm if only we choose to see it.
I didn’t look at the place where his left leg should have been, although my eyes wanted to. I didn’t let them. I didn’t ask him how long he’d been without it, or how hard it might be to get himself dressed in the morning and in and out of a vehicle and across a snowy rutted parking lot. And what do you do with all those left boots and shoes and pant legs? How horrible has your life been and how hard was this to accept?
I said none of those things that were in my head, because we were just two ordinary people having an ordinary conversation, being pleasant and accepting of each other the way we happen to be at this moment, no deep introspections required. He got his glasses back and he was on his way.
All afternoon I kept thinking good thoughts about snowflakes. I thought about those airy little bits of lace, there for a moment on the back of his glove, and how they made his face so blissful. His mood was so intoxicating, I wanted to give him a hug and thank him for that.
But I didn’t. I wish I had.
Ronny Cammareri: I love you.
Loretta Castorini: [slaps him twice] Snap out of it!
I dated some romantic men, guys who put a lot of thought and effort into sweeping me off my feet, but I sure as hell didn’t marry one of them.
The flowers and gifts, soppy poetry and grand gestures were lost on me. I always thought there must be some ulterior motive lurking under all that fuss and bother and for the most part I didn’t really trust any of it.
That kind of attention is nice, but it also makes me nervous. What made you do this? What do you want in return? If you did something or gave me something that I don’t really like or appreciate, how hard do you want me to pretend that it’s lovely?
Give me sweet honesty instead and someone who knows how to do all the little things that add up to prove his commitment. A guy who wouldn’t recognize a romantic act if it bit him in the ass. There are thousands of ways to tell me I am captivating and that you absolutely adore me.
Take out the garbage. Cook something. Change the oil in my car. Pick up Chinese food. Say thank you. Put up the Christmas lights all by yourself. Empty the dishwasher. Work in the yard. Hand over the damn remote once in a while.
Share your day with me. And when I share mine with you, please know that I don’t expect you to solve my problems for me; all you have to do is sit there and listen. And not nod off.
Be sympathetic when I’m sad. Laugh with me when things are funny. Ask me what I think and consider my advice. Share stuff with me. Let me help.
I can’t remember the last time W. actually said the words “I love you”. But there’s another three little words he says to me all the time with a charming and amorous smile.
“Whatever you want.”
Equally beautiful, straight from the heart, and it means the exact same thing.
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