My Dad

As I stand behind him taking pictures, I am working on etching each one into my memory banks. He has no idea that I am taking pictures behind him and why that I am, I never say. I have pictures from over the years, but not enough.

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This past weekend my dad turned eighty. He looks fabulous, still a shaking, rattling and rolling dancing man on the farm, tinkering and making endless lists of things he is planning on doing.  I know life will one day change for all of us, and it is one of my biggest fears. It feels like yesterday that I put fifty candles on a cake and carried it down the stairs singing. The top of it, became a skating rink of pink and orange wax and we laughed that we would begin using the number candles in the future. It was a ball of flame, and the heat was intense.

Even now, trying to blow out the scented candle to refresh the house, I struggle and it’s one wick, possibly three. Our years take a tole on our bodies, inside and out, yet our minds are still the same, the same thoughts, ideas and grand adventures we have planned, plotted, organized, assessed and reassessed.

We think of how our lives are going to turn out, we plan, we work hard and sometimes things don’t go the way we see it, and we start over again, sometimes again and again. I then think about the journey of life; a trip. We start our trip, break in between, start again and the reality is we never finish. We are always on a fresh start, didn’t matter if I had just completed the same task, the timing has changed. It is always a grand new adventure.

As I see him and my mum, starting to adventure a bit more, it makes me happy that they are still able to look for an adventure, that they keep believing in the adventure and are trying new things. I am a firm believer, it is so good for the creative soul just to try, even if you dislike it, you attempted it and you can add it to the list of accomplishments and not to the, I wish I had tried that, listing.

We all have them, ones where we wish we had made a different choice, where we think something would have made a big impact on our lives. The catch is regardless of the things we think we should do, or missed in our eyes, our path keeps redesigning in front of us and changing until we are on the path we were meant to be on.

Some people may say that’s my witchiness coming out, but I am a firm believer. Today, my choice may not be correct, but I have learned a valuable lesson from that choice and then it recreates to the next path. I didn’t quit and I found a new path that maybe I had not considered.

As I write this, the coffee shop is full of people and I am breaking from the errands I am running. Each of them on a path or destiny, some very unhappy and some just content with life at this time, enjoying their “Be”.

Now I think back to where I fit in at this moment. Am I experiencing contentment? I don’t believe so. I am looking for my inner strength at this time. The part that makes my emotions hit the top of the roller coaster and I am ready for the stomach to fly in the downwards movement and the excitement of life.

The rain has turned to snow and the sadness of the day reminds me of what will come again. Each season, another birthday, (just saying start shopping, it’s in 30 days, let the countdown begin!) and another stage of life. Some days I don’t believe I have this one mastered but I keep getting another day to practice; thank you for my practice days.

When I look at the pictures my dad was enjoying, in each one, he saw the growth of the same bear and deer in them, continuous changes to seasons, waterfalls and the environment. The paintings were the complete symbolism of life in general and I hear a lot of people that question, what’s next or where do I go from here?

Thinking to a year ago, the feeling of standing in a group of people in a room, I was shaking, my mind rushing and felt explosive of so many details of PTSD, that over intensified my being. Fast forward to the homework I have been doing and the same event a year later, I could smile, talk to people, was happy to be there, but maybe I should have rethought my three inch heels. But man they make my legs look good! I will take it as some days a slipper is too much too wear with my gnarled up witch feet.

I am on the path I am suppose to be, and the one before of intense physical and emotional challenges, was also my path. I know some people may says it’s bad luck, but I don’t believe in that. I believe in my guiding hand who has hung onto me while I was drowning and swimming for shore, which showed me strength. They kept me afloat and kept taking me hand in their hand, to each beautiful creation of life’s moments and would say look at it! Open your eyes!

My eyes are open and sometimes still teary as I get over emotional. The past two weeks we have been talking, reviewing and trying to create a philantrophy project. The wheelchair that was Tim the tool man Taylor tinkered up for an event that just took place made me cry. People I know and don’t know, said yes I will help, here you go, this is donated and were so giving.

The people that think I have made a difference on them, I laugh, and say thank you, but you all have made a difference to me. Now as I am bawling in the coffee shop it may be time to take my leave and finish my writing elsewhere. My caramel macchiato is just so good, it makes me emotional! Let’s just be honest, I’m crying because life is truly good, bad, horrific, sad, and intense. Sounds like a first date!

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As I am reviewing my blog for posting, it still was not exactly what I wanted in my head and I find I keep rewriting. I have decided that it’s fine for today and my inner critic needs to go to sleep as its cutting into your shopping days. So here is what I ask for my birthday.

I am asking if you all could do one good deed, pay it forward, make someone smile and be inspirational to someone for my birthday. I would love to hear what you did, and remember that could be the path that you were meant to be on, you never know what could be someone’s inspiration that day.

Love always, the path walking, please don’t snow on my path, dad loving, Woman in Process

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