Dreaming of Chocolate Pudding

It’s an interesting thing, becoming a widow and feeling everything about your physical self, shift.

I remember walking through the grocery store, when Alan was sick, gathering up edibles in the form of pudding and things that were white or clear.

For several months after he died, I wondered if anyone noticed I was now purchasing things green and healthy and in small batches. 

It’s sort of like when you wear your first bra or start your period or become pregnant with your first child.

Or have sex.

Can anyone tell from the outside, that I am different?

That my husband died?

No.

I found this poem and thought it appropriate for today…

~

If you could observe your Self from a distance, way over there,

would you critique your size and shape, your weight, and your hair?

Would you be kind to your Self?

If you could observe your Self from a distance, way over there,

would you see your thoughts and your inner smile, your fears, and addictions

the love that surrounds you and carries you all the while?

Would you be kind to your Self?

If you could observe your Self from a distance, way over there,

would you spend more than a passing glance?

Would you wonder or be curious about the rhythm of your dance?

You are not a mistake or a mere happenstance…

and neither are they way over there.

““““““““““““““““““““

Ok, the poem doesn’t fit exactly and make my point

but its close enough for now.

Sometimes things don’t have to match.

Sometimes we need to use our imagination…

I’m hoping you will.

“whisper”

Softly love yourself this day, taking time and treating yourself as the special person you are.

No hard edges, no hard words, no hard thoughts.

Softly love yourself today.

Please

And so, we will…

Loving still,

always

marylou

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