Here’s a little sneak peek of my upcoming book…
"Dear, Tidy......I love you!"
How does one write a book about themselves? What determines if my words are worth reading? Who am I to write down anything that anyone would ever take the time to read what I have to say? These thoughts have been swimming around in my mind for years now and I haven't the slightest idea how one begins to write a book. I guess I could begin with an alliteration...
Today I must tidy, for too many a thing 'tis the reason for toxic waste in thought and tendency. Trash, turbulence and being too tired is the traffic that threatens and tears at my teacup filled with teeth and thunder. The topics in this thorough and thoughtful thread will be all about taking out the trash and transforming your (my) tracks. Tip top. Spit spot. Let's get tidy.
Phew…. that was really fun. It's like painting with words.
Today is Monday, November, 14th 2016, I'm about to be 40 years old in about 2 weeks and the country in which I live is treading in a tone of dissonance. I won't mention any names or point any fingers but many people are in total shock and I won't lie, I was too until I realized what it's all for.
The last 8 years for me personally has been a period of much growth. I remember on that very night in November of ‘08 I felt the magic.
"Change will not come if we wait for some other person or some other time. We are the ones we've been waiting for. We are the change that we seek.”
"The future rewards those who press on. I don't have time to feel sorry for myself. I don't have time to complain. I'm going to press on.”
“We, The People, recognize that we have responsibilities as well as rights; that our destinies are bound together; that a freedom which only asks what's in it for me, a freedom without a commitment to others, a freedom without love or charity or duty or patriotism, is unworthy of our founding ideals, and those who died in their defense.”
I could list them all and if you must remove the author’s name, there is an undeniable mystical divinity in every line. He spoke about change and personal responsibility and even though he incurred many protesters and disbelievers, I realized his message was for me.
For most of my life I have lived in fear. Fear of others thoughts of me, fear of the world, fear of the unknown and the fear to make a decision without. I was tired of this fear and his words evoked a power and strength in me that could no longer be held back. His words still bring tears to my eyes and I might not ever fully understand why.
Okay… if you're still reading, that means you haven't dismissed me based on my political views. If you're on the fence, let me assure you I know nothing about politics but I do know the power of words. And just a little side note-- This isn't a going to be a book about politics or religion. It's merely the background of my story.
Obama's inspiring words and first-time-buyer’s program allowed me to build up the courage to buy my first home. In April of 2009 my son Julien was 2 1/2 years old and being a single mom and working a 9-5 went together like oil and water. I was too tired to play with my boy because doing chores in the evenings and on weekends took up most of our time. We lived in my mother's townhouse which was a 3-level, 3 bed 3 bath too-much-space-to-clean-and-keep-tidy home. I also wasn't able to afford the mortgage and I wanted something that was all mine. Something I had manifested from my heart.
I hired a realtor and after several weeks of showings and not knowing what I wanted or where I wanted to live, she was downright frustrated with me and I think on our last venture she actually had a margarita in her water bottle. I guess I'm not the average buyer. It had to fit the budget which was teeny tiny, the location had to inspire me and I needed to feel it in my bones. So needless to say, I got in my car and started driving.
I'd looked on-line for weeks and weeks. When I found one I liked it either needed too much work or it was in a bad location. On the last day of my search I had written down several addresses on a piece of scratch paper. I left work on my lunch break and drove from one for-sale sign to the next. Nothing spoke to me. I felt lost. Renting in Denver at that time was the same price as a mortgage and it seemed more practical to buy.
It was the end of the day, the sun was setting and the road I was on curved around a cute little greenbelt. The thoughts in my mind were filled with doubt thinking that I had to rush to the daycare with nothing to show for the miles I had driven. All of a sudden I saw it. It kind of felt like that song from your childhood that you hear as an adult and when it comes on the radio and you are immediately transformed back into your child-like self. It felt like my heart was driving the car and carrying me forward towards this tiny little cottage from the 1950's and all I can tell you is that everything felt like it was drenched in a love bath. I saw the garden I would plant, the tire swing that would hang from the large oak in the back yard and the walks to the park after dinner with my sweet Julien. The sunsets in Colorado are like no other. Pinks, oranges, blues, lavenders and yellows, like the way a poem is written I was perfectly placed in front of what was soon to be my very own house of 685 square feet but this one wasn't on my list. I knew nothing about it but I felt it in every part of my being, like my first true love had found me....
