I spent the weekend helping my mother cook for the Easter Sunday dinner to which she'd invited Strong Silent Guy's (her boyfriend's) family
( Read more... )
I'm glad that Bladekid is doing better. And that you're writing (even if it's not "The Indirect Life" at the moment.)
I'm sorry about the March/April madness. I can relate. My older sister died in April (on Easter Day) and it's left a great deal of sadness attached to the holiday.
I have some Daffodils. I was even thinking about posting about them. Someone who lived in this apartment before me planted them in front of my door. When I moved in, I didn't even know they were there. Last winter I was very depressed. And then spring came, and these Daffodils sprouted up and bloomed. (Surprise!) I took to talking to them. Said good bye when I left for the day and hello when I came back. I live alone and I can't have a pet, but I had Daffodils to greet me and that somehow made everything better.
Just last week the Daffodils started blooming again. And I started talking to them again. So I'll give them your regards next time I say hello.
When my dad was in the hospital for the final time, the daffodils started to bloom. I came home from the hospital each evening to a row of bright, cheerful yellow. It was comforting.
One day, I arrived home to find that someone (translation: the evil twin boys who lived next door) had clipped the blossoms off every one of the stems. It was unbelievably devastating. It took enormous restraint to not go next door, drag the demon children from their home, and beat them senseless.
Somehow, though, my perception of daffodils hasn't changed. They still make me smile and still fuel my springtime hopes.
I love you, sweetheart. I see daffodils all around me and they make me smile, thinking of you. I planted some honeysuckle last year, and it is beginning to take off. I am eager for the fragrant blossoms to appear, for when they do, I will be able to close my eyes and once again imagine standing with you in that field, when you asked me if I had ever smelt a honeysuckle before.
I love spring, for all its beauty. I love you, for all the meaning you bring to it.
(((Hugs))) Blade. I can relate to your March/April madness. For me it's August/September, and for reasons that only a few people in my life know about. Which sucks because I turn into a brooding, unpredictable, mood-swinging bitch and I can't even talk about it with anyone who understands
( ... )
Comments 21
Hey. Is this meant to be flocked?
Reply
Reply
And I'm also glad Bladekid is better.
Reply
Reply
I'm sorry about the March/April madness. I can relate. My older sister died in April (on Easter Day) and it's left a great deal of sadness attached to the holiday.
I have some Daffodils. I was even thinking about posting about them. Someone who lived in this apartment before me planted them in front of my door. When I moved in, I didn't even know they were there. Last winter I was very depressed. And then spring came, and these Daffodils sprouted up and bloomed. (Surprise!) I took to talking to them. Said good bye when I left for the day and hello when I came back. I live alone and I can't have a pet, but I had Daffodils to greet me and that somehow made everything better.
Just last week the Daffodils started blooming again. And I started talking to them again. So I'll give them your regards next time I say hello.
Reply
When my dad was in the hospital for the final time, the daffodils started to bloom. I came home from the hospital each evening to a row of bright, cheerful yellow. It was comforting.
One day, I arrived home to find that someone (translation: the evil twin boys who lived next door) had clipped the blossoms off every one of the stems. It was unbelievably devastating. It took enormous restraint to not go next door, drag the demon children from their home, and beat them senseless.
Somehow, though, my perception of daffodils hasn't changed. They still make me smile and still fuel my springtime hopes.
Reply
I love spring, for all its beauty. I love you, for all the meaning you bring to it.
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment