When I was a little girl, I was the type of kid that like to play outside all the time. Everyday I was out soaking up the Texas sun and playing with the neighborhood friends. Playing outdoors had its cost though. There were numerous times I would fall down or get hurt in some way, whether it be a small scratch or a bloody disaster.
Today, as odd as this may sound, I was inspecting one of my oldest and biggest scars on my right knee. I couldn't help but smile thinking of how I earned it. I was riding on my bike in Arkansas, going down a hill standing with one foot on the bike seat, the other high in the air as if I were an ice skater, while my hands were holding on to the handle bars. For a few moments I held a strong pose (and did not look as graceful as the ice skaters do mind you) but when I tried to come back down I was going too fast to hold my balance, and I fell onto the cement road. I was left with gashes, bruises, and scratches of all sorts, and the biggest mark made was on my right knee.
That tumble down the hill was years ago and the scar, which once was about the size of my knee, is smaller and has faded to where it is barely noticeable.
Lately I have been picking at old wounds. The problem is, the wounds are still fresh and haven't had time to heal like the scar on my knee has. They are not wounds that are barely detectable at first glance, but wounds that still have color to them. Injuries that I have experienced within a year.
Although I am dating and love my boyfriend Koto, I still have had trouble with my ex, Deedle. Whenever I am home, and I happen to run into him, we attempt to be civil. We say our pleasantries and move on. The problem is, my wound with Deedle is still young. No, it's not fresh and my love with Koto has been like ointment to my injury, but it still feels as if someone is attempting to reopen that wound which I have waited what has seemed so long to heal. It is not like I still love Deedle or that I want to be with him. I just feel that bitterness between us and it simply makes me sad.
Another wound that is fresh and will still continue to bleed occasionally is my dear friend Mr. Don, who is no longer here. I know this will simply take time, but every now and then something probes that wound and I feel like it will never stop bleeding.
The good news is, like the injury on my knee, these wounds will heal and become scars. Scars are a funny thing. At first you hate the wound, you are hurt and upset. Some take more time then others, but eventually we almost forget it's there. A scar starts to take place, and there are those moments where you stare for minutes, memorizing the shape while you think of how it all began. Then, some scars you barely notice, and if you do it's just a part of who you are. It will always be there and you learn to accept that.
Our wounds are how we learn, and reopening them is how we grow even if that's difficult. Our injuries and problems come with each passing year, and we use that experience to move forward into the new year.
Looking back on 2011, I experienced wounds that I can't help but flinching a little still when I think about them. But I will use all of the pain and hurt I had to prepare for the new year.
So, 2011 I believe a thanks is in order...you gave me some heartache and trouble, but you also gave me great blessings. I have fallen in love, gotten a better idea of what I want to do in life, gotten closer to my loved ones, and learned several lessons that I will keep with me always.You have prepared me for next year and the ones following.
Farewell 2011, I move forward and anticipate the arrival of 2012. One day you will be remembered as the year that left me with old wounds.
Until Next Time,
Snoodle Doodle Jr.
Friday, December 30, 2011
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
So Long Dear Friend
Mr. Don is officially out of this world. He died December 12th, and I fortunately was able to make it to his funeral. It was a beautiful service at the Veterans funeral home, but it was also the saddest thing I've ever been to. He would have loved it though.
At the end of the service several people I hadn't seen in a while came up to talk to me. We reminisced about Mr. Don and how great he was, and it made me realize how impacting of a person he was. To many, it may seem he was just your typical southern man that liked to hunt, fish, and drink beer. But he was such an amazing friend and all who knew him loved him.
His wife also spoke to me at the end of the service and asked if I come by her house before I go back to school to pick up a present I gave him when I was a little girl. It was a small sculpture of a mountain man, since that's what Mr. Don always thought he was. He said he was born a hundred years too late. She told me he wanted me to have it. His granddaughter who I use to play with all the time, gave me a yellow rose that was placed on the casket, and we exchanged a hug and a look but no words were spoken.
The only person who I didn't know that spoke to me after the funeral was the funeral director. She told me that Mr. Don and his wife spoke highly of me and I was brought up several times. She also said Mr. Don viewed me as a daughter.
His funeral, the people and their words, and that yellow rose all about broke my heart. There are random moments where I just start to tear up, even at the most unusual times. I know he wouldn't want me to be sad, and he'd want me to go on and live up my Christmas holidays but it is so difficult. I just miss my friend.
Life will continue on though, and the best I can do is make him proud. I think of him in heaven, happy and singing with his friendly southern drawl making all sorts of friends there. And even though there is no beer in heaven, I'll pretend he's sitting back with a can in his hand and smiling down on me.
So long Mr. Don, I love you and will always miss you.
Until Next Time,
Snoodle Doodle Jr.
At the end of the service several people I hadn't seen in a while came up to talk to me. We reminisced about Mr. Don and how great he was, and it made me realize how impacting of a person he was. To many, it may seem he was just your typical southern man that liked to hunt, fish, and drink beer. But he was such an amazing friend and all who knew him loved him.
His wife also spoke to me at the end of the service and asked if I come by her house before I go back to school to pick up a present I gave him when I was a little girl. It was a small sculpture of a mountain man, since that's what Mr. Don always thought he was. He said he was born a hundred years too late. She told me he wanted me to have it. His granddaughter who I use to play with all the time, gave me a yellow rose that was placed on the casket, and we exchanged a hug and a look but no words were spoken.
The only person who I didn't know that spoke to me after the funeral was the funeral director. She told me that Mr. Don and his wife spoke highly of me and I was brought up several times. She also said Mr. Don viewed me as a daughter.
His funeral, the people and their words, and that yellow rose all about broke my heart. There are random moments where I just start to tear up, even at the most unusual times. I know he wouldn't want me to be sad, and he'd want me to go on and live up my Christmas holidays but it is so difficult. I just miss my friend.
Life will continue on though, and the best I can do is make him proud. I think of him in heaven, happy and singing with his friendly southern drawl making all sorts of friends there. And even though there is no beer in heaven, I'll pretend he's sitting back with a can in his hand and smiling down on me.
So long Mr. Don, I love you and will always miss you.
Until Next Time,
Snoodle Doodle Jr.
Friday, December 2, 2011
The Good Books
One of the best things ever, is when the book that you are currently reading is so good that you don't want to do anything else but read it. You read it at work, you read it during class, you take it to you wherever you go even though you know you won't be able to read any of it. That book that you stay up reading at night when you had a long day and you're exhausted, have another early morning and long day ahead of you, but you still continue to stay up in the dim light and read.
I haven't had one of those books in a while I feel. Maybe it's because I don't read as often as I use to, and I don't have as much opportunity to get many of those good books. Even still, I haven't read a good solid book in a while. It has left me feeling grumpy,antsy, and I can't wait to get my hands on one.
I'm missing the good books. Fingers crossed, I'll get a hold of one soon.
Until Next Time,
Snoodle Doodle Jr.
I haven't had one of those books in a while I feel. Maybe it's because I don't read as often as I use to, and I don't have as much opportunity to get many of those good books. Even still, I haven't read a good solid book in a while. It has left me feeling grumpy,antsy, and I can't wait to get my hands on one.
I'm missing the good books. Fingers crossed, I'll get a hold of one soon.
Until Next Time,
Snoodle Doodle Jr.
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