I didn't write this and couldn't source it unfortunately :( It's one of those random things you find online that has no link. Anyone who knows where it is from lmk and I'll source it. Reminded me of myself and Mr. Curry.
What strikes me about this, straight to the heart, is that this is how my children saw me, when they were young.
Now, that they're in their teens, I am becoming "human" to them, and I can see them discovering this, they point out what is imperfect about me...as if they are seeing it for the first time. Though it's always been there...they just never saw me through those kind of detached eyes before.
what i thought love was is so much less than what it is
Our Pack: Dakota Wolf, Lola Moon, Ian Oliver and our baby, Ever Elizabeth
Someone may have stolen your dream when it was young and fresh and you were innocent. Anger is natural. Grief is appropriate. Healing is mandatory. Restoration is possible. -Jane Rubietta
you can stand under my umbrella
Search This Blog
"Poetry has nothing to do with poetry. Poetry is how the air goes green before thunder. Is the sound you make when you come, and why you live and how you bleed, and The sound you make or don't make when you die."- Gwendolyn MacEwen
the light is on for you
These Words are Sweet Vodka to my Brain
vodka gimlet
tulip
toulouse
toss
toothsome
tenderhooks
swan
starlings
spritz
slut
scotch
saffron
radish
primrose
poppy and her cousins, poppet & and poppy-cock
plum
owlet
mint julep
magnolia
lux
lola
linden
lament
juniper
jazz
imogene
gossamer
foxglove, fret
forensic
flux
feverfew
eyelet
elixer
crocus
clover
champagne
bramble
bluet
bandersnatch
apple
agitate
nobody's perfect
"Her looks fading, the vain Lispector became increasingly reclusive and demanding. Addicted to cigarettes and sleeping pills, she exhibited erratic and sometimes imperious behavior. She would call friends in the middle of the night and flee dinner parties for little apparent reason. She had a reputation for being a liar."-<em>NYT on Clarice Lispector
My dear child, who can tell? One can only tell that, by remembering something which happened where we lived before; and as we remember nothing, we know nothing about it; and no book, and no man, can ever tell us certainly.
Some couples don’t ask much of one another after they’ve worked out the fundamentals of jobs and children. Some live separate intellectual and cultural lives, and survive, but the most intense, most fulfilling marriages need, I think, to struggle toward some kind of ideological convergence. Norman Rush
So true, and very beautifully put.
so true. and then they become beautiful in a new and far more enduring way.
did you write this? it's lovely.
This reminds me of the way my sister sees life. I like it.
I didn't write this and couldn't source it unfortunately :( It's one of those random things you find online that has no link. Anyone who knows where it is from lmk and I'll source it. Reminded me of myself and Mr. Curry.
Love it --
Yes, yes, yes!!
i needed this today, right at this moment. thank you.
Yes. Well said. Love it.
I love it. And will share it. Thanks for sharing it here Maggie May :)
What strikes me about this, straight to the heart, is that this is how my children saw me, when they were young.
Now, that they're in their teens, I am becoming "human" to them, and I can see them discovering this, they point out what is imperfect about me...as if they are seeing it for the first time. Though it's always been there...they just never saw me through those kind of detached eyes before.
Post a Comment