“Happy Birthday Month, my Honey…”

A year ago this week….

She was happy,
she was in remission…
she was preparing for her Birthday Party…

October 30th is her day of birth..

Therefore, October was her ‘BIRTHDAY MONTH:.
..A tradition we started twenty five out of our twenty six years together.

Cards every day starting October first. Constant birthday wishes, birthday kisses, hugs, gestures…. Whatever I could think of to make the days of this month just a ‘leetle’ bit different from the norm.
When I’d stop to smell the roses…I’d stop to smell her too.
And a clandestine touch in a public place? When the mood and timing were right. It’s always amazed me…boys and girls, men and women, can kiss ANYWHERE…a computer store, a grocery store…..any public place, it does not matter. It is almost expected, and maybe encouraged, with an…”oh isn’t that sweet…young love…”

Same sex couples swept up in the very same moment…can be ridiculed, chased, and chastised, and or beaten to a pulp.

Which is more acceptable, family, friends, or strangers?

Which can do the most damage…..family, friends, or strangers?

She was so special. Culminating on the 30th. Most years there was a gathering or celebration of some kind.

After all the BS she’d dodge throughout the year, there were really three days etched on the calendar that we tried to make really ‘special’.

Her birthday, Oct.30th, our Anniversary, March 9th, followed by my birthday, January 3rd.

Three out of Three hundred sixty-five days….
Was that too much to ask? We did not think so…
She and I dared to take some time for each other.
Just those three days, really.

The other three hundred and sixty two were clouded. Like an old fashioned pin ball game, without the barriers, we were un- mercifully batted around…”ping”…”ping”…..”ping!” We wracked up the points..but we later found out how little they really helped to us.

When did that pin ball game start? For me…twenty five years ago, for her, start with the thirtieth day of Ocotber, 1955.
Where was the satisfaction?

“Throw her a bone” every so often wrapped in “….MY DAUGHTER…” existed as the…or shall I say presented itself as the norm.

Garner satisfaction in knowing that….whenever, wherever she felt like it, she could summom the mythical “mother” sirens, minions, and command them to perfect height and quickness of their jumps.
Yes, oddly enough, our every day lives were clouded. So thick were the clouds, that they masked the truth, the reality, the true light of the situation.

Manipulation, or bending back. How does one make it so they can really see through the masked mist?

Who do you trust? The one who says ‘stick with me and you will never want for anything..”
The very same ones who leave you abandoned, when they are need the most….
A relationship warped in shame and regret. With those who hide under their self-soothing veil of .. ‘that’s what you needed’ .

Those who seek solace in the ‘blood is thicker than water cry…”
Cowards in that they choose not to see the reality, the purity, and the honest truth of the circumstance.

Or, those , who regardless of what happens, in a relationship not their own, satisfy themselves on their fear.
What do you fear? Loss of control over someone else, because in reality, you are THAT UNHAPPY with your own lives? Jealous? Envious?
Is that why you consciously choose to destroy what you envy? What you do not, or choose to not embrace?

Bottom line: YOU ARE NOT HAPPY, SO WHY SHOULD ANYONE ELSE BE?
To quote: ‘I pity the fool….”

Day after day, week after week, ad finitum, those cries and assurances have always fallen short, like Angels outfitted with wings way too small for them. Yet, faced with the obvious,
those persons still persist, like a run in your stocking, or a wild dam without the dyke with the finger.

Riddle me this….if the dyke is not there to fill the hole with her finger…what happens…?

uld welcome the “partnership workships”
Thanks,

Simone

The people at the controls of that pinball machine never dared to extend themselves beyond those controls, beyond the glass, beyond the game.
A very telling, sad commentary. A true observation