Particularly things like Thank You notes.
What actually happens, though, is that I do NOT stay on top of things. Oh, not at all. (I am RATHER distractable.) Said 'things' pile up in corners, take up space on desks, and are found, like mysterious piles of treasure, years later in dresser drawers. Then they are removed, marveled at, turned this way and that so that they catch the light, and are then replaced in the drawer. You COULD remove them, I suppose. . . but treasure is almost ALWAYS cursed. And I'm just not that big of a risk-taker. (The bungee jump in Panama City? Never tried it. Just don't think that brain-juice is meant to be shaken like that. And so I never will try it. . . .I think I made my point.) Only this week, I actually FOUND a box of Christmas cards. Addressed, sealed, ready-to-go-in-the-mail Christmas cards. Just waiting to go out and spread Christmas joy. God only knows what Christmas they're actually FROM. . . And THIS is my problem: I have a dark, and overactive imagination. You see, I don't want to move the cards. . . because I'm afraid that sitting in the dresser drawer, for countless years on end, with nothing to keep the cards company but old spools of ribbon, waiting and waiting and WAITING to spread their message of good cheer. . . I'm afraid that it's probably driven them insane.
Still, I can appreciate the finer points of insanity as well as the next gal, and I just MIGHT send them anyway. . .except for the fact that I generally try to include a hand-written note inside each one, and for all I know said note could be referencing a baby that is now in her early teens, a COMPLETE disappointment to her parents, and something of a "sore topic." Or even worse!---Maybe my note says "Say hi to Maurice for me!". . . with Maurice being a grandparent that is no longer with us.
Now I LOVE Tim Burton, worship him!!! . . . But I don't really feel that Christmas is the time to break out the macabre sense of humor. ESPECIALLY with people that wouldn't even think it was funny. Mental note: Throw those cards away. TODAY.
My point is that I am NOT very on top of things. But I try. I try valiantly.
(. . .and even as I wrote that last sentence, there is just enough Powerful Dork Side coursing through my veins that I couldn't HELP but hear Master Yoda in my head, saying: "Do or do not. There is no try." Wow. It's like a religion around this place.)
But no Jedi Masters just right now! I have a thought in my head, and if I don't chase it down, wrestle it to the floor, and shackle it to something sturdy. . . it will get away before I summon the presence of mind to write about it. I KNOW. . . it's happened more times than I can count.
So. . . here we are, halfway down a screen filled with print. . . and I've still not even come close to getting to the POINT of why I'm writing today. So I guess I'll just spill it:
Today I'm writing a Thank You note.
I've been going through a rough patch of late, and, aside from the skin-crawling tension that never seems to abate (thanks, Brain! You suck!), I am actually starting to feel better. Like myself again.
And, since I AM feeling better. . . I feel as though I need to say Thank You to everyone that has helped me.
But alas. . . that would be a daunting task, as it appears that the entire village has had a hand in helping me find my way back to Me.
So these won't be anywhere near as long, or as elegant, or as beautiful as all these people actually DESERVE. But I'm going to do it anyway. Because I MUST.
My husband. . . he loved me enough to fight to get me back. When it wasn't easy, and when he was all alone, and when he had to do it ALL by himself. . . he STILL fought. He STILL did whatever he had to do. Because he wanted ME. . . .For the longest time in our relationship, I just thought he was too perfect and beautiful and wonderful to ever stay with me. . . .And admittedly, I don't have much faith in people. But HE. . . he would ACTUALLY fight for me. And that knowledge has honestly changed my heart.
My parents. . . there's nothing I can say. In a GOOD way. =) You gave birth to a mad-child like me, and at times, I know, you didn't know what to do with me. But know this: To this day, I feel like you would rock me in your arms if you knew that I was afraid. That is a beauty I don't deserve, and I love you all SO MUCH.
To my friends. . . ? Where to start? You keep me going. You lift me up. You let me know that I am NOT alone. You sympathize; you commiserate. You make me laugh. You make me better.
And finally, though many will not understand, and even more may think it silly (I've been called SO much worse than silly!). . . my last thank you note. . .
Dear Music,
I have never written you a letter before, and I guess that means that I am LONG overdue. . . .Ha! I remember being 8 years old when I first realized that I NEEDED YOU in my life.
And you've been there ever since.
I just wanted to let you know: I'd be dead without you.
You are THAT important to me.
When I wake up every day---you're there. To get me started, to make me happy.
When I exercise---you're there. To push me over one more hill. To help me GO, when I'd rather just stop.
In my darkest hours. . . still you are there. You wrap me up and hold me close, and you make me better. And because of you, I know that I am not alone. And because of you, I know that there is something bigger than I'll ever understand.
And while I know nothing about the face of God, because I know You, I am forced to conclude that it is beautiful.
I love you, Music.
In MY life----you have made a difference.
No.
You have made ALL the difference.
Thank you.
Danielle
No comments:
Post a Comment