I thought of introducing myself on my blog by listing the many reasons why I wanted to enter “blog land.” But I told my daughter and granddaughter that that sounded way too much like an “assignment.” At my age I am done with assignments. I am looking now for a way to express myself, launch my feelings out into the great beyond and perhaps connect with a few kindred souls.
If you looked at my “About” page you saw a little munchkin—I really liked being her. And at a senior age I have realized that I miss her. She was the better part of me, the one with the imagination. I plan to re-capture her and regain some of her joie de vivre. Perhaps a blog will be cathartic, exciting, enlightening, for me and for my readers.
Over the years I have written down quite a few of my thoughts, and no doubt they sprang from that little girl I have taken to calling “apple cheeks.” I truly did have apple cheeks long before I knew of such a thing as rouge or blush. Those cheeks endeared me to some and allowed me a way into their hearts. So she, my alter ego, has been collecting stories, and thoughts, and gleaning bits of life through lo, these many years.
So, let us start this journey with my one step— I shall introduce myself by describing “apple cheeks” a bit. I really do still have many of her qualities and my hope is that she will return a bit with each posting. I hope you grow to like her as she comes into focus once again.
Where is She?
Some of my days now are filled with wondering. And I often I wonder where that little apple-cheeked girl went. She was so kind, and loving, with those rosy cheeks and pigtails. She believed—in everything. She believed in God, in magic, in her parents, in fairies, in love, in friendship--in short, in everything worth believing.
She was so sweet, a trait I feel I lost a long time ago. You know you will get kicked around by Life no matter who you are. Life can take your heart, and in the words of Lewis Grizzard, “stomp that sucker flat.” Then you know you have become an adult. This is a status we wish for all through school, and then when we get there we find the price tag was much higher than we anticipated.
There is responsibility, jobs to procure, children to nurture, mortgages to commit to, etc., and then come the grandchildren and the cycle begins again. Don’t get me wrong, there are many minutes of these phases that are magical and make your whole life worthwhile. But there are shoals too, that will test your soul and faith and character.
But not that little girl I once was—she would have known what to do. It has always been my feeling that we are good, spontaneous, lovable, kind, etc., when we are toddlers and young children. We are that way because we just came from God. We just left that big waiting room upstairs where we were coddled by angels and cherubim and seraphim. Then we were born and had to become “of this world.” We mostly stay good for several years because we are so innocent, not so immersed in the distractions of life.
Lately I think about that little girl and try to call her back to me. I would like to have her be my guide in life once more because . . .
-- she would worry about every kitten, dog, bird in the world that she thought needed food;
-- she would draw, and tell stories, and sing, not because she sought skill in these areas, but simply because she must do these things—they sprang from her like fireworks on a Fourth of July night;
-- she would laugh and roll around in newly mown grass, not caring at all about itching or how her hair might look;
-- she understood with an intuitive sense (I still have that but it has diminished); but the force was so strong with her that she knew how to talk to folks, respond to them—genuinely. I guess that’s the emotional GPS that we come with so we can navigate situations until we grow up;
-- she loved with all her heart; loved her parents, loved her aunts, loved her friends, her neighbors. Everybody was good in her book;
-- she watched for fairies, looked for four-leaf clovers, waited patiently for a falling star, and knew that magical things happened if you only believed;
-- she was smart, too; she had confidence in herself because she had not been derided, or made to feel inadequate—that would come much later;
-- she did great for many years and got me through being low income (compared to other folks,) got me through polio, and got me through third grade.
One day though, she started to fade a bit, like a picture going out of focus. Maybe it was the day something or someone she loved died. Or maybe it was when she realized her house was not as fine as everyone else’s, and felt that made her less. Perhaps it was when a harsh teacher made a hurtful comment, or the first time someone laughed at her for a mean reason.
I saw her fade away until I had forgotten she once existed. In her place was a new woman. A smart enough woman, kind enough, but a woman riddled with thoughts of all the baggage she was carrying. This was a woman who had been “dumped” a couple of times and knew the heartbreak of losing love. The new woman knew that things didn’t just “magically” happen. This new version of me understood debt, and hard work and how to be “savvy” instead of “intuitive” when I conducted myself in public. This new version had to learn everything she could, so no one could say she was stupid. She had to try to dress, talk, walk, and live in an acceptable manner. Yes, “acceptable” was the new watch word.
But, I think I shall conjure that little girl up again. I will start by going to my beauty arsenal and actually creating some apple-cheeked feelings by applying some soft, pink blush. I shall go sit in the sun and feel the breeze, and watch the birds, and stars, and clouds. I shall dilly and dally and watch the seasons change and do good deeds only for the sake of doing good. I know deep down I shall never fully retrieve “apple cheeks,” but I will make a valiant effort. And who knows, I might just see that long awaited falling star.