Wounds heal, but the scars remain...
With a twinge of unhealthy satisfaction, I read that my ex-husband lost his bid for city council back home. The emotions are complicated...a split second moment of imagination wondered if he might reach out to me in his loss, just as I remarked in my head that his photo in the paper didn't look very attractive. I recognized his resigned expression though...if he'd put half of the energy of his political efforts into our marriage...but that's neither here nor there now, and really, I suppose he could say the same about me. What is the saying? That truth only exists in the moment...once it is observed and retold, it is no longer the truth but just a story of what the truth might have been.
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I have always loved the scent and taste of honeysuckle. I remember picking the flowers from the playground walls and sucking out the stems when I was only in first grade. I've been using a honeysuckle perfume from Whole Foods for the last year. And my favorite part of the neighborhood is the long fenceline of the property behind my house, along the road, that blooms with yellow and white honeysuckle in the spring. Sometimes the scent is heavy on the air and sometimes you just catch it lightly on the breeze and can't tell where it's coming from. It always seems to lift my spirits, relax me, and make me feel...clean and pretty and just better. I thought it was just something I liked, but I read recently that honeysuckle is purported to have medicinal properties for relieving tension and clearing the mind. I went out and purchased some Bach's Honeysuckle Flower Essence and now I try to drink a couple of drops everyday, and have been doing so for a couple of months. I left it at home on my trip to Nashville and now I'm curious if that might have had something to do with my melancholy.
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The little dog bite on my hand is healing, but it's ugly and it looks like it's going to leave a scar. I've started dressing it with lavendar oil in the hope that the scar will fade even as it's forming. In much the same way, my honeysuckle, my triathlon training, my new habits and rituals, and my pointed breaking of those habits, are not just a means of keeping busy, but a way of fading the inevitable scars that are forming over heart and mind. I know they're there...I think sometimes that I've escaped without them, and then I read about my ex in the paper and a little smirk of satisfaction drips into my soul, and I realize I'm not getting off that easy.
Comments
Me being dumb, basically. I told my neighbor's 3 year old daughter how I got the bite, and she shook her head wide-eyed at me, "You're supposed to ask first if you can pet the doggy." Duh.
The short version is posted here.
This is the long version: My sis' roommate's family was in town (Nashville) for graduation and they brought their family dog with them--Bonnie, a small-medium size dog they've had since puppyhood--who was staying in the girls' apartment. When my family arrived at the apartment to visit, Bri (that's my sister--short for Briana) told us that her roomate's fam had said that "Bonnie's not good with strangers", and were impressed that she'd been surprisingly friendly with Bri. At this point, Bonnie was locked in the roommate's room since her "family" was out. So, about 15 minutes later, as we were getting ready to leave the apartment, Bri and I had the following conversation.
Bri: Come with me really quickly, I want you to see Bonnie.
Me: But I thought you said she wasn't good with strangers.
Bri: Nah, she'll be fine. She's really cute.
Me: Ok. [Dumb, I know.]
And then I followed Bri to her roommate's door which she opened enough to reveal a very cute, shaggy and curly looking dog. Bri bent down and let Bonnie smell her hand, and just kind of petted her, and then I bent down to let Bonnie smell my hand too--just like you're always taught you're supposed to do, right? Well, Bonnie must have smelled evil or something because she sniffed normally and then went CHOMP! Her teeth caught the meat of my right hand, and Bri shut the door while I pulled my lightly bleeding hand back, both of us just kind of stunned at what had happened.
Later when my sister told her roommate what happened, she said, "Yeah...I don't know why she does that." Turns out the dog had to come with them to graduation because no kennel will take her anymore!
"You're supposed to ask first if you can pet the doggy." HAHAHAHAHAHAHA Cute. It's crazy what kids can say these days. My 4 year old niece is the same way.
OUCH! No kennels will take her now? No way? LOL Poor pup...errr evil doggie.