A stuffed animal left near a rental cabin in the Lincoln forest. The proverbial
pink elephant? An insignificant item that seems to anchor those few days in one’s
mind. Muddy and forgotten. What sort of life did it participate in before it was abandoned in the rocks, pine needles, and mud? Did it once absorb dreams in a sleeping child’s arms? What became of it after it received this brief attention from a lens? Did it cause someone else to wonder also? Was it carried away by a playful pet? Did someone
come along, wash it, and place it on a shelf…a do-dad, a treasure to remember a pleasant weekend? Did a wisp of wind drop it to the forest floor again to lie once
I want to imagine that a youngster with pink bows in her hair picked up the lonely little elephant and talked her mother into washing it clean again. Perhaps the little elephant has started a new life of adventures that include reading stories, tea parties, and trips taken on a high-flying swing into the atmosphere. A Mary Poppins existence.
This was a sketch of me done by an art student. More an interpretation of me than a close representation. Everyone sees us differently. We see ourselves differently than anyone or everyone else. And we are constantly changing, so it’s really hard to tie anyone down to a certain perception. We live and learn. We make mistakes and, hopefully, move on. Experience growth. Experience failure. Undergo success. Play our part in the grand experience until curtain call or fade to black.
Sometimes it would be a good thing to look at ourselves through someone else’s eyes. One thing I learned along the way is that when a man tells his wife that she’s beautiful, he really means it, and the wife doesn’t have the right to try to change his mind by saying the things we women say. “Noooo. My hair isn’t done” or ” Noooo. My face is broken out” or some of the other words we use to pooh-pooh the compliment. It’s all about interpretation. He looks at her and sees the mother of his children, his life partner, his whole world. That’s how he interprets her. Women should bring themselves to understand that.
I took this pic to capture the gorgeous clouds in the background. During the drought that went on here for several years (it’s not really over) we went what seemed like eons without seeing a single puff of white in the sky.
The three green sentinels in mid picture I planted years ago. When first joined to the soil they stood not over a foot high. Now they top me, and other evergreens I planted various other places did not fair as well. There is still a lot left up to chance in nature. The pecan tree framing the picture is a native plant while the cottonwood behind it that seems to have struggled and still strains to make its mark on the sky I planted to remind me of the bosque I used to frequent growing up in Socorro county.
We always hear that life is change. And that transforming road often has curves, detours, rough spots and occasionally milestones. Events, sometimes with a dash of synchronicity thrown in, Signpost events that stand out and mark drastic reorganization. Sometimes good, sometimes bad, sometimes bittersweet. All just a part of life.