Day 52 – #100HappyDay Challenge
What does your perfect day look like? Imagine you could wake up each and every morning and create your perfect day, what you choose to do?
Wake up to a kiss and sunshine.
Steaming coffee with cream paired with fresh pastries, butter and jam.
Another kiss, hands touch, a lazy morning.
A casual road trip, intimate conversation.
Roadside stops along the way, fresh flowers, jars of honey and preserves.
Sunset flight of wine with dinner, music plays.
Dance beneath the stars.
Night lingers, laughter follows.
What’s your perfect day?
The violence we do to ourselves is unforgivable. Remember we are made of God Stuff.
There are moments, okay, sometimes days that morph into weeks that turn into years that are so challenging to navigate. They weigh heavy as a long winter night that I don’t know if I can lift my eyes to face another wallop. And then smack down!
But I’m made of sterner stuff – God stuff. And I breathe in. I breathe out. And I pray. And then I do it all over again.
Does it get easier? No. Yes. I honestly don’t know. I tell myself that life isn’t that hard. We make it hard. But we don’t have to. This is what I tell myself. This is what I’m telling you.
But what if everyone would just grow the duck up? Just be responsible? Make their life the best life possible? Look forward. Don’t look back. Make this moment happy. The best moment possible. It’s just a heart beat. It’s a smile even in the darkest of darkest night.
Breathe. Breathe again. And again.
Going through an old file I stumbled upon my mothers papers, yellow and wrinkled from age. She’s been gone now for over 25 years and I still miss her. The loss of someone you love never goes away, it just becomes apart of you – ghostly memories that resurrect themselves, like now.
Slipping into her pages, I found this hand written draft she wrote an eon ago about me as a little girl. This is how my mother saw me.
Her words are written below.
Rene is an eight and one half year old girl of mixed blood – white European heritage – with 1/4 Cherokee, Seminole Indian. She weighs 50lbs, is 3 feet 6 inches tall, she wears a size 1 shoe in girls. She has hazel eyes, chestnut brown hair, a powder of big, brown freckles across her snub nose. Rene’s skin is medium light, tans very quickly and rarely sunburns, it is delicate in texture.
Rene slips from a merry little minx to serious studious Miss in a twinkling and in a minute more shes pouring over a trifle, screaching at her brothers or complaining over some imagined hurt to her vanity. She can sit still for an hour but most often she’s moving restlessly about the small apartment, out in the yard or talking for hours on the telephone.
This morning I asked her how old she was. She replayed eight. A moving insight. Most little girls her age would have said almost nine or eight and one half or eight and a half.
– Crystal Thomas Tuchel