Secret Admirers

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A memory…flowers didn’t arrive at my home but one day while away from the office for lunch my desk held a delivery. A  gift basket containing body crèmes, spray mist and soaps. The card read: “You deserve the best. I am willing to be that for you.” No name. I became frightened. I think, trying to figure out who it could be. I smiled slightly. My stomach danced with butterflies. I went back to work. I worried. I called my fiancée, knowing he didn’t send it. I didn’t tell him about the gift basket.

Later,  I opened the gift and the smell of the body crème was divine, rare, expensive. A scent I never smelled before. I definitely knew my fiancée didn’t send it. Very nervous, I didn’t take it home. I kept it at the office. My co-workers questioned me, wanting to know who sent it. They loved the smell of it. So did I. It wasn’t loud like perfumes tend to be. The scent was comforting, cozy, light, delicious…lingering. I didn’t go around asking questions I honestly didn’t know who sent it. Who could this person be? To know what to buy me, to cater to such a specific scent, a person I knew nothing about.

He approached me the following day. A co-worker. A nice guy. He was quiet. I thanked him. I told him I didn’t cheat. He responded: “I wasn’t asking you to. I want more than that.” He walks away. I have no words. I am so confused because I never gave any reason for him to like me. I was engaged. He watched. I smiled. We never spoke again. At this time, this writing prompt #Secret Admirers, I think of him. I smile. I can’t remember his name nor his face. Older, wiser, love abused and misused I appreciate him. What an authentic, original way to initiate, create and pursue a possible love interest.  A scent so rare so indescribable…eighteen years later and I have not forgotten about it. No butterflies, no longer frightened but the risk to have more, to have what he wanted in me remains. I have never experienced the smell of that fragrance again. I cannot find it. Secret admirers: they give us more than maybes or possibilities; they have the ability to ignite an undeveloped want into a future standard.

Wondering,

A. Michelle!

 

 

You, my audience

My hope is that you will see, my dream reader, within my words is Me.  I love a lot. I can encourage others yet give so little effort in encouraging myself. I am the greatest supporter in whatever your dreams are yet I will push my dreams aside because of fear….I doubt myself more than I doubt others. I will fight for you, protect you and forgive you. I believe that love conquers all. Yet, despite how strong Love is it is the most fragile and greatly misinterpreted concept, misguided method in history—present and future. But I know Love reigns as the greatest champion in all the world.

 A few insiders that make me Michelle…..I read magazines from the back to the front. I will read my favorite book and watch my favorite movie over and over again–and each time get something new out of it. This fact is very seldom due to age, when I eat french fries with a meal I consume all of them first. One has to eat fries while their hot. Cold fries are a waste of time and energy, be respectful.  I am first to reach out, touch and comfort a hurting person but will pull away if a person touches me. Oh, I give great hugs, too! A person told me this, “I love your hugs. They are not half way or soft. They are so real. Needed.”

I love God. I believe in Jesus yet I’m no one’s chump. I think our population has watered down the characteristics of Jesus. In my opinion, He wasn’t a pushover. My confidence, guarded self-esteem is solely based on knowing God loves me….yet I ain’t no shabby chick. I am no wall flower. I believe I stand out in a crowd because of this huge smile I have. As a teen I always shyly covered my smile with my hand. (It is huge and kids are mean.)

I am wanting and in wait to meet the love of my life. Yes!…at my age, after divorce, after four children (ages 26, 23, 12 and 9.) I love Love even though we don’t seem to agree, click or meet. (Laugh)

I have moments of uncourageousness that have led to one profound truth: I hope. I hope a lot. I think settling is a travesty, a comfort so unwelcome to the heart, so unfair to others and to you. I choose not to write from hurt –somehow the beauty of it (writing) is taken away and “they” win.

What are the things I hide from others? ….hurt feelings–I package them away. As well as the full bluntness of my anger, my tongue is vicious–I’m working on that. My moments of self defeat….well I take that to God. He listens His way and checks off my to do list on His own time. He has a sense of humor.

So I hope you read my blog, my two cents, my words with an intimate knowledge of unbiased truths of me by Me.

With hope,

A. Michelle!

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That Publish button…my bloggy blog statement

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When I write….It all passes through me. I see more in black and white than what’s in my heart. I can fix this…when I write.

​ My feelings, emotions are more coherent. They are tangible, loud. Emotions feel, taste, they bite. My tiny voice is loud, substantial, coherent no longer misunderstood…when I write. I’m strong, powerful, vulnerable and so transparent. It scares me, still…when I write. 
When I write, there aren’t any rules. There are no, “You can’t.”  No incorrect grammar rules (ok, I have to make sense) but I can make up words within my own writing context, “uncourageous”— (what a wonderful word) and you as the reader know exactly what it means!  As a female raised in the South, no rules is a new phenomenon and the release is pure ecstasy.
(Don’t get too deep with the latest intonation. lol)

My heart seems to have no rhyme or reason but my words bleed truth, bleed, reveal my  soul. ​ My matters of the heart are not without healing, when I write. The invincible is plausible, the impossible is reasonable. ​​ I can do more, achieve more when I write. I am more than super; I am a wonder, when I write.  I feel normal yet I know this writing is unique, a gift, my very own gift. It is mine….and it frees me….it connects me…it heals me. It is me, all of me.​

My tears spill over into smiles or a  “Wow. Now I see” ​ confirmation begins to develop new ideas. ​ My joy, the kind no one can take away centers me. God meets me write there…..and quite simply, “There” is an intimacy experienced–no longer an imagination…when I write.

Vulnerably yours,

~A. Michelle!