Random thoughts

Try as one might, you can't make someone love you. Nor can you change their will.

Running on Empty

An empty well -- that is what I am. As a writer, I am up against the wall. I cannot find the words to complete outstanding projects. In fact, the words for this blog won't flow either.

My limbs feel like dead weights attached to the torso. There is pain in the shoulders and the fingers dance upon the keyboard, making a valiant attempt to support and coerce and support the brain and body to work in unison. On this day though, the energy doesn't extend beyond the wrists -- anything else is just too much.

The colors of my world

Pink has been the color of my world for quite a while. Pink reminds me of the bubblegum I loved as a child; of party dresses, and beautiful birthday cakes. Pink is the smell of a new Barbie doll fresh from the package, and my mama's kitchen when she was cooking a delicious meal like fried chicken or chicken and dumplings. Pink is the color of a child's bedroom when the first color wasn't allowed. Pink is happy, and to boost it to overdrive, add yellow.

Yellow is the color of the Easter lily's that edged our yard every year. Yellow is the happy days that I spent with my beloved mama playing LP's on her huge stereo and dancing in the living room like mad women. Yellow is stopping to have ice cream on the way home from a trip to the library -- her chocolate and me vanilla, or racing home because we went to the library on Thursday night and we want to watch the Walton's on TV.

Pink is the color of my youth, and yellow is the memories of my mother. Throughout my adult life, there has not been a lot of yellow and pink. At the moment, my world is colored the gray-blue of the ocean and the brown of a muddy floor. it is as if pieces of my heart have been ripped from my chest and it is filled with a muddy brown. My head is filled with that gray-blue and has pushed any other color out as it wraps itself around my brain trying to suffocate any happy memories or even the potential of the green buds that form the pinks and yellows of my happiness.

Love versus in love

In today's society, people banter about words without giving much thought to them. Think about words that should have great meaning -- like I love you. To some, this phrase has a deep almost spiritual meaning to it, and it is reserved only for those special people with which much love is shared. For example, between husband and wife, between mother and child, and even between best friends.

Walking the halls of anyschool, USA will allow you to hear this phrase put into more common terms. Children use it as a greeting of sorts. A quick hug and an I love you before departing to the next class. The air thick with juvenile against to fit in perhaps causes children to use this phrase in perhaps less than an actual love situation. Or perhaps there are different sorts of love.

What is the difference in the phrase I love you when compared with the phrase I am in love with you? Surely there is a difference. We, as a society tend to save I am in love with you for our partners in life, at least for the most part, while I love you can mean the love a parent has for children and best friends.

Remove the I am in love with you from the equation of a marriage. Shouldn't I love you and I am in love with you have the same meaning in this circumstance? If the two statements do represent different meanings, what then? The relationship has now shifted to expose a raw side; one that is easily wounded, and begs the question, can the relationship continue without both components?

A sad tale

Is love really all about the physicality of a relationship or is it something more. Something deeper. What constitutes being in love or just loving someone. Is there a difference? Or is love just that -- you either love someone or something or you don't. What are the parameters of being in love and can a relationship exist if one partner says that being in love doesn't exist for them?

Becoming me

It has occurred to me that no matter how hard we try, we can't protect our children from the hurts of life. It is these actions -- some of them anyway -- that turn them into well adjusted adults. Life must be lived on their terms, and not our own. No matter how much we wish it otherwise, we can't be there to cushion each fall.

I compare my own adventure into adult hood with that of my children. Did my parents feel the pain of each of my hurts as I do my own children? How do other parents feel? I have tended to surround myself with like-minded adults, and I know how they feel. I want to know how others feel.

Perhaps we are never really grown until we can take a step back and allow those most closest to our hearts pick themselves up when they fall. It is this act of letting go that frees them to find their own sense of self, and perhaps it allows us to close the chapter of who we are and begin the next chapter of our own lives.

The colors of Texas

The grand vacation to Texas is now just a memory. It was great fun though. Time was spent with family and friends -- so much love was shared. In addition, to the love, the region presents with such a variety of colors that it is almost overwhelming to the senses.

Living on the eastern border of Missouri, we have blues and greens, and beautiful muted autumn colors. Not at all what one sees in southern Texas. They have already experienced spring, so everything is bright emerald green. Cacti are in bloom as well as the blue bonnets.

The sky gifts such amazing colors -- shades of blue that are not seen in Missouri. Clouds play among the blue like children playing in the ever present pools of crystal blue water. Sunrises and sunsets present a variety of pink and purples hues that look like God himself has taken a paint brush to the skies. Beautiful and almost indescribable in their beauty.

A trip to the coast of the Gulf of Mexico presents another gentle assault on the senses. People crowd the sides of the ferries that take them from one piece of land to another in hopes of a glimpse of the dolphins that are often at play. On this day though, the dolphins seem to be at rest, but the ferry riders are awarded with the sight of a statuesque pelican gracefully perched on the landing.

A short car trip later, and the ocean appears as if someone opened a great pop up book. The scene spills into view. The great expanse of sand and the even greater expanse of ocean. The water is frothy with white foam as the waves tried to clamber to shore. Standing in their midst looking over the great expanse of ocean makes one feel so insignificant. The chill of the blue-gray water disappears as only the sounds and smells of the sea overtake a person as it becomes a living thing.

The colors of nature only barely edge out the colors that are man created. Although some homes are the traditional while, beige, or brick that we are used to seeing in the Midwest, many are painted with colors that remind one of a new box of crayons. The rainbow colors of the houses make even the ordinary yet unfortunate colored houses seem brighter, as if they are trying to compete in a beauty contest of sorts.

The love that was shared will remain with us forever in our hearts and in our minds. The unintended gifts of color will remain with us also.