I had a nightmare last night. Someone was holding a dog, while another person held a gun, point blank up to the dog’s chest. In my dream I closed my eyes tightly, and covered my ears-and thank God I woke up before… I apologize for the brutality of my nightmare-it left me feeling shaken and nauseous to say the least.
I know where this nightmare came from.
Yesterday I wrote a post about a friend and the terrible loss she is facing. After I published the post it weighed heavily on my mind. I was afraid of how my friend would react if she happened to see it (which I doubt, but still.) This morning I asked my husband for his opinion and his advice was what I already had given myself-remove it.
I try to be honest in my writing. I am finding that honesty is what makes good writing. It’s easy to put lovely phrases and impressive words down on paper, but are they honest words? And if they are honest words, are they hurtful words?
I realize that not everything I write has to end up as a blog post-even if it makes an interesting blog post. I’m not ready to put the feelings of those I care about on the line. So for now I think I’ll stick to lighter fare.
And continuing in my quest for realism-I decided to take a picture of myself to post here so that all of you will know who you are dealing with. My blog friend Kim over at The Child posted her lovely photo, and that inspired me to do likewise.
Plus…it provides me with a story to tell…
When I entered the house, it should have been my idea of heaven. Room after room of antique furniture, vintage dishes, old jewelry and clothes…everything right there for the taking.
The cost? One Grandmother.
The funeral was over and as I recall, a light rain was starting to fall. I still remember my Grandma’s casket-a beautiful burgundy color decorated with delicate flowers.
Back at her house, we started to divvy up a lifetime’s accumulation of stuff. I chose a blender-still in the box, a mega pack of toilet paper (my husband and I were newlyweds-living on a pretty small income) , a desk…and a mirror.
My Grandma had several mirrors in her home-but the one I chose had been hanging in her dining room for decades. I figured that during that time, every one of my relatives had looked at themselves in it. It represented all of us.
That’s the mirror I used for my self portrait. I think my Grandma would be happy.
In all honesty, I think my Grandma would say “Why don’t you stop playing around with that camera and go make something of yourself!”
My Grandma was a very honest woman.
Image sourced from the net.