Thank Heaven for Little Girls

Hello, loveys, come sit with me for a minute.  You may notice I have two coffee pots going at all times now; the Keurig and the regular one.  Feel free to grab something and join me as I try to plan what I am going to do with my free day (which is never a free day, for the record).  

I am doing okay, which is a good thing.  I know I tend to do things, like drop bombshells, and then start talking about D&D or Bingo, but it’s just sort of what I do.  My brain tends to move in many different directions, I mean, look at this blogs title!  I rarely talk about books, or baking, it’s mostly always beyond.  When I started this blog though, I swore I was going to talk to you all about my efforts in books and baking with some other things thrown in.Again I digress. 

Today I want to tell you a story.  Come sit with me and feel free to move around all the things on the table.  I went to the craft store, which is always a dangerous place for me because I get all these grandiose ideas but I have very little skill.  I’m trying though! 

There was a girl, a little girl, who would spend a lot of time in her room.  She had pink walls, a little tv that didn’t get cable, and toys.  She would spend hours just in her room, reading her books, playing with her toys, coming up with stories for all of her dolls.  She would spend time getting each doll ready for their dates for the evening, picking out the perfect dress, putting their hair up in just the right way, looking for matching shoes that weren’t eaten by the cat.  She had friends, sure, and she went outside, but her most favorite times were those that she could spend in her room, making up her own world. 

Her dolls would go on their dates, but the same thing would happen.  They would come home every time, saying the evening was ok, they had a nice dinner and made small talk about the weather.  Each time the little girl hoped, hoped beyond measure, that they would finally find the one.  She saw her mom daily going to work, coming home, sleeping, only to repeat it all over again.  Her mom hadn’t found the one either.

Sometimes the girl would dress up herself and pretend she had a date.  She would do her hair just right, sneak into her moms room and use some of her mom’s makeup and dab a little bit of perfume right around her ear, like she saw her mom.  She would dance in her room, make small talk, and always come home to tell her dolls about what a wonderful evening she had and that she had found the one.  They were going to have dinners together every night and they would go on vacations to Disney World.  She always knew in her heart, this was the one and they would be happily having dinners and touring the Magic Kingdom for the rest of their lives.

The girl grew up and the dolls were pushed to the wayside in favor of posters of boy bands, radios that could tape songs off the radio, and hair accessories.  Sometimes she would come across an old dress that she would play dress up with, or a doll whose leg was chewed by the cat, but they were just pushed to the side.  She would try different hairstyles while singing to her favorite songs.  She seemed so much different than the little girl who had lived in the same room but they had a few things that they had in common.  They still thought about what it would be like to go on dates, to have that moment of clarity, finding that one person who made time stop for them.  She would still practice dancing in her room and she would still sneak into her mom’s room from time to time to borrow some makeup. 

Her mom had found someone by that time, but the girl wasn’t sure if he was the one.  Watching her mom, she didn’t seem as excited as the dolls were, or even the girl when she had pretended to go on these magical dates.  She seemed a little more tired, and she didn’t have as much time anymore.  They still talked, but it wasn’t quite the same. 

The girl grew up even more.  Boy band posters came down and radios were replaced with CD Players.  Boyfriends have since entered the picture, most not lasting very long.  The girl had started to realize that love wasn’t something like books made it out to be, it was not like the TV shows she had watched growing up or the movies.  It usually hurt, and turned ordinary people, even nice people, into not being so nice.  It made enemies from friends and it also made you sad.  She had watched her mom get sadder by the day, until one day she told the girl that things were going to change around the house.  It would be losing one person.

The girl had more adventures with love and instead of fairytales she learned logic.  Logic would not hurt, nor let her down.  Logic wouldn’t hit her, ignore her, tell lies.  Logic wouldn’t make her feel badly about herself.  Logic understood no meant no. 

One day she came across someone that challenged her logic.  There was nothing that made sense about it, in fact, it was the opposite of logic and she didn’t know what to do with that.  The little girl tried to call out, to tell her it was okay, and she should get ready for her date because she was going to dance and have dinners in Disney World for the rest of her life.  She ran away because logically, that made the most sense. 

Left continues, and choices are made.  The girl chose logic, and on the outside it seems to have been the right choice.  She has a comfortable life, not grand, not even close to grand, but comfortable.  She has been blessed with a healthy family and a routine.  There may be quirks, but the quirks she sees in her children remind her of the little girl in the room with her books and dolls.  Inside though, she is just blank.  She is a bit more tired, and she doesn’t seem to have enough time.  She will still talk, but it just isn’t the same.

One day the girl heard a voice.  It was small, so small, but present.  It sounded familiar – a little high pitched, a little scared, kind of shy, but so very familiar.  The girl tried to ignore it, she had things to do, dinners to shop for, time to spend on everyone, but the voice wouldn’t stop.  It started to get louder, but still the girl could push it down.  Work called, everyone needed something first.  Finally, the girl heard a yell that she could not ignore. 

 

“You didn’t forget how to dance.  You still want to go to Disney World.  You still like to play dress-up even if you don’t want to admit it.  You didn’t forget about me, or this, or things you wanted.  You just learned how to talk yourself out of them.”

Oh how wise little girls are.  I stopped ignoring her and started bringing her back to the surface.  Friday night dance parties she is right with me, dancing with the kids.  I bought make up and sometimes do my hair a little differently.  I went into my mom’s room and I smelled some of her perfumes.  I still prefer mine, but it was nice to do.  I went on vacation and allowed myself to finally truly feel happy.  I wore dresses and skirts and I felt the happiness radiate from me.

In the end, out of all of this, I want to share with you what I have learned, darling friends.  Screw logic.  Don’t let it own you.  Be free and if you aren’t happy, be happy.  Please.  Be happy for you, and for that child inside you who is still doing exactly what they were doing when you left them last.  Feel happiness radiate from you.  Find someone who makes you defy logic, or start looking for that someone.  They exist, and they probably need you just as badly as you need them.  Defy logic.  Be happy.  Stop growing up and find your youth again; our younger selves were smarter than we gave them credit for.

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