A Spring Tale

11 Apr 2008

Dear Miss Kitty,
How do you know if someone really loves you? Do you get to a place where you can believe them? I want to, it just seems hard, like I am letting myself become weak if I do and then I was wrong.
Madison



Dear Madison,
Once upon a time there was a beautiful woman waiting in a small church somewhere wonderful, to marry the man of her dreams. Her gown was the palest of rose; the guests were quiet, with gentle anticipation of the wondrous event yet to happen. They waited, and waited and waited. Because this is a fairy tale, they waited until the sun had set and the dawn rose on yet another beautiful spring morning. Slowly, with a mixture of sadness and embarrassment, they slipped away, murmuring whispers of condolence along with giving her small hugs of confusion. The bride neither heard the warm hearted wishes to heal her heart nor felt the compassion for her pain in the hugs and little kisses.

She walked home to her cottage by the sea, alone. When she got home, she took off the splendid dress and all her bridal trappings, but couldn’t put down the bouquet of tiny white and pink roses. She cried and cried; she punched and kicked at pillows; she ate pints of ice cream, all while holding the bouquet. Once day, months later, while she was in the garden, a handsome fellow who was lost, (he really was!) made his way to her front door.

The day was warm, and as she sat on the porch, reading a book, she was enjoying a glass of tea. He seemed hot, and as she went into the house to get a map to help him, she poured another glass of the cold tea. He took it. He stayed for 6 hours. They spoke of many things and realized they had more in common then not.. They smiled at each other a lot. Finally, as the day dressed itself for the evening, he mentioned he really did need to leave, but could he see her again, and soon.

She went into the house to look for a pen and a piece of paper, and as she did, she realized that she still had the bouquet in her hand. She couldn’t put it down. She wouldn’t put it down. She walked back out onto the porch, a different woman than the one with whom the man had spent the last precious hours. Feeling and acknowledging that difference was the sadness he left with, instead of a phone number.

Darling Boys, Girls and Madison,
Holding the pain of your past, the fear of making yet the same mistakes is very understandable. It seems almost reasonable; don’t we tell children that fire burns so not to touch it? Do we remember to tell them, that fire, used correctly, is pretty amazing? It seems that when it comes to keeping ourselves safe, we can forget to hear the important caveats. There are some pains, especially broken trust that are almost impossible to get over. But like realizing that fire has many a delightful purpose, love, if used correctly, can bring even more delight. There is wisdom in prudence, in knowing our past mistakes so we don’t continue to make them. There is wisdom in taking a chance, and sometimes, the stranger who comes out of nowhere, when you least expect it, is the one for whom you discarded the faded and wilted bouquet.

Have a naughty day!