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Once Upon A Time

This week I am participating in the WEGO Health “Advocating for Another” carnival, in which I write posts in response to prompts. I am having a lot of fun with this!

Today’s prompt: Once upon a time – It’s storytelling day! Write a story about yourself, your loved one, and others as though you’re a children’s book author. Be sure to include a beginning, middle, and end. Extra points for illustrations!

Once upon a time, there was a little girl who didn’t really like dolls, except for the rag doll her granny made her and the child-size walking doll she once got for Christmas. She didn’t really play with dolls, though. She preferred to play “Cops and Robbers” with her brother and his friends, even though her brother always made her be the bad guy who was shot dead.

The little girl thought her brother was bossy and annoying.

Many people thought the little girl would never be a mommy. She didn’t know how to take care of dolls, and she couldn’t sew or cook. Everyone thought that you had to be able to sew and cook in order to be a mommy. The little girl didn’t really care. She wanted to be an astronaut.

The little girl became a teenager and stopped being little. She still couldn’t sew or cook, and she was painfully shy around people she didn’t know. Apart from a couple of short-lived attempts at relationships, she didn’t have boyfriends. People still didn’t think she would ever become a mother. The girl still didn’t care about that, but she was starting to wonder if she would be alone for her whole life.

When she went away to university, the girl – now a young woman – met a man who flattered her and made her feel special. But then he hurt her and made her feel worthless. Now the young woman didn’t want to be a mother. She didn’t want to be a wife. She wanted to be alone, and for a long time, she was.

The woman grew older and moved to another country. One day, when she was sitting in a park, a man sat down beside her and told her she had beautiful eyes. When she looked at him, she felt as if she was looking at her future.

The man and woman moved into a house together. They had a baby, and two years later, they had another one. The woman had become a mother! She loved her children more than anything, and her children loved her.

The woman no longer thought her brother was bossy and annoying. He walked her down the aisle when she got married.

When a doctor told the woman that her older son had autism, she cried. But after a few years, she knew that even though there would be hard times, her child would be OK, because he had a family who loved him.

(Photo credit: Kirsten Doyle)

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The Moment My Future Arrived

21 August, 2001

It is a beautiful summer’s evening, but my heart is feeling heavy. I am lonely. I have been in Canada for just over a year, and it seems to be taking an inordinately long time for me to build up any kind of social support network. Barry and I split up just a week ago after dating for five months. It wasn’t the best of relationships – we didn’t really have any kind of chemistry, me and Barry – but he had represented some kind of social normality at a time when I really needed it. The breakup was awful – the kind that involves lots of arguing, accusations flung back and forth, and absolutely no chance of friendship afterwards.

What stings the most is that Barry is not divorced at all, like he’s been telling me. He’s still married. It doesn’t matter to me that he and his wife don’t get along. It doesn’t matter that they no longer live together. The fact is that for five months, I’ve been sleeping with someone else’s husband. Even though I didn’t know, had no way of knowing, I feel tarnished. Like I’ve done something wrong.

I’m feeling sad, angry, lonely. I feel trapped in all of these negative emotions, and I have to get out. I cannot go for a run: I already ran this morning, and with my first half-marathon just a month away, I cannot afford to mess with my training.

Instead, I take a walk to High Park. As I wander into the park, I instantly start to feel calmer. High Park is the kind of place that does that. All of that luscious green, the wide open spaces, the breathtaking beauty of the flowers and the river, serves to slow my heartbeat and appreciate the world around me.

I walk for a while, and then sit on a rock close to the park entrance. I close my eyes and bask in the warmth of the sun. Gradually, I feel myself coming to life, like a flower receiving water after a drought. I open my eyes and see a man walking towards me.

I wonder if I know him, and squint to get a better look in the sunlight. No, I’ve never seen him before, and yet he is walking in my direction with definite purpose, smiling broadly as he makes eye contact with me. He is holding a bunch of flowers.

Odd. I wonder if he has mistaken me for somebody else.

He reaches me and sits down on the rock beside me. He looks into my eyes, pauses, and then says, “You have beautiful eyes.” He hands me the flowers and tells me his name. I hear the sound of my own name coming from my lips, but I am not aware of having spoken.

In an instant, Barry and everything to do with him has faded into complete insignificance. None of that matters anymore.

I am staring at this man in wonderment, this man who is a stranger and yet somehow, not a stranger at all.

We stand up, and arm in arm, we start walking.

Both of us somehow know that we are walking, together, to our future.

(Photo credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/eleasa/2734011065)