Bachelors #22-26: The International Set

My dad loved Hawaii.

And he did his best to instill the same passion for Polynesia in me. I absolutely loved the time I spent in the South Pacific growing up. I loved it so much, my heart literally hurt every time we had to leave and return to our home in Colorado.

Eventually, I was offered a piano scholarship to BYU-Hawaii and my dad’s only hesitation about letting me accept it was his fear that I would fall in love with an islander and my family would never see or hear from me again! He knew me well. I may well have done that, given the chance.

So it was kind of ironic that I married a man who hated the sun, Hawaii, the beach, the feeling of sand between his toes, and every other “island” thing that I loved. After I divorced it hit me. Although I would never have chosen divorce and never thought it would happen to me, what if I actually found a Polynesian man to love the second time around? (And then I realized the following, too: it may take someone from that far away to have not heard about me or the drama-filled ending of my marriage and previous life thanks to the criminal actions of my former spouse!)

Hmm. It was something to consider. So I had to laugh when I actually got asked out by what I’ll call “The International Set” of bachelors. Bachelors #22-26. Each hailed from some place far removed from Colorado and the fall out of the Ponzi scheme my former spouse perpetrated. I had a chance at the anonymity I had hoped for!

Unfortunately, Bachelor #22 was very nice, but not my type at all. Nothing serious ever developed. He was just a fun friend, from a foreign country, kind, who enjoyed hearing about my kids and dancing. I’ll remember him most for his constant smile. Adios, Bachelor #22!

Bachelor #23 was nice, but too short for me. (And I’m not talking he was less than my dream height of 6’2″. He was literally quite a bit shorter than me!) He was a widower with one arm and several children. He spoke Samoan fluently, but English…not so much! That was NEVER going anywhere. Tofa, Bachelor #23!

Bachelor #24 was a nice, older Samoan gentleman who loved young people and helping them achieve their dreams. He ran a foundation for troubled youth, and had a heart that was big enough to love the entire world, it seemed. (A very good quality.) Every time he asked me out on a date, he invited me to bring my children, too, even though he had never met them. (I didn’t bring my children, though. I wasn’t comfortable letting my children meet many of the men I dated.) A very nice man. However, in my eyes he was more like a father or a grandfather, not a man I had romantic interest in. That frustrated him and he quit asking me out as soon as he realized that. Tofa, Bachelor #24!

Bachlor #25 was another “senior” citizen…from Greece. He was nice, but it was clear to me from the moment I met him that there was never going to be a Big Fat Greek Wedding in my future. Ta leme, Bachelor #25!

Bachelor #26 was a genuine Kiwi–VERY handsome, tan, VERY cool, laid back, outdoorsy, loved to hike and walk (the muddier the better!) and had an accent to die for! Too bad we had very different goals and values. He was a fun and nice man but it finally came down to hei kona ra, Bachelor #26!

So the international set didn’t work out for me. But I haven’t given up.

“I’m a hopeless romantic. It’s disgusting. It really is. I’ve seen ‘While You Were Sleeping’, like, twenty times, and I still believe in the whole Prince Charming thing.” (Jennifer Love Hewitt)

I’m with her.

Bachelor #19: The Barracuda

Date: July 27, 2010 Author: Andrea Merriman

“I think fish is nice, but then I think that rain is wet, so who am I to judge? (Douglas Adams)

The following is not going to sound like it’s coming from a woman in her 40s, college educated, who has seen her fair share of the world, but here it is:

If I was a baby guppy fish, Bachelor #19 was a barracuda!

Don’t get me wrong. Bachelor #19 was a law abiding citizen and a good person. I don’t want to give the mistaken impression that he was dangerous–not in the axe-murderer, serial killer sense of the word anyway. It’s just that he was handsome, several years older than me, and CLEARLY much more experienced and worldly-wise than I was.

We had different core beliefs, values and lifestyles. He had grandchildren, I had a four-year-old.

So I’m not sure what the attraction was for him. I never asked him. He just always said, “My gosh, you’re cute!” (But not in those exact words. I’ve edited his colorful way of expressing himself.) And he asked me out. A lot.

But he made me nervous.

He made me feel as if I was getting in way over my head. I think I was. But at least I was smart enough to sense that. So I took the cowardly approach and was “busy” every time he asked me out. I quit returning his calls.

“If you define cowardice as running away at the first sign of danger, screaming and tripping and begging for mercy, then yes, Mr. Brave man, I guess I’m a coward.” (Jack Handy)

The thing I remember most about Bachelor #19, aside from his colorful language and the “something” about him that made me nervous, was how patient he was to me in my cowardice. He didn’t get mean, rude or hostile. He continued to be kind, patient, complimentary and understanding of my hesitation. Until one day, he finally gave up and quit asking me out.

“Sometimes the questions are complicated and the answers are simple.” (Dr. Seuss)

Goodbye, Bachelor #19.

This fish isn’t biting.

Bachelor #17: The Importance of Voice and How You Use It

Date: July 26, 2010 Author: Andrea Merriman

“Women don’t want to hear what you think. Women want to hear what they think – in a deeper voice.” (Bill Cosby)

Voice. The biggest thing I can say about Bachelor #17 was that he had a very unusual voice. And it wasn’t deep.

He was tan with spiky hair. When I first met him, I thought it was white-blonde, but on closer inspection I realized it was gray! (Such is dating in your 40s, versus dating in the 1980s! Sometimes I still can’t get used to the older men…)

He loved Michael Jackson, American Idol, was a good dancer, had an outgoing and fun personality, drank rootbeer by the gallon and was a successful businessman. But he paid the price for his success in the hours he worked. Although we went out places, he preferred “at home” dates so he could take phone calls and be accessible to his clients. And while he was a very nice man, I would say he could best be described as a “mama’s boy;” not very tough emotionally, used to being catered to and taken care of; prone to whining.

Although I didn’t love his devotion to his job and I tried to overlook the whining, things fell apart on the first family date–he brought his daughter and had me bring my two youngest sons. It was a later evening activity, my boys began the evening tired, and it went downhill from there! In fact, I spent most of the evening out in the foyer with my youngest who just wanted to go home and didn’t really care about the man providing the evening’s entertainment.

The family date wasn’t a huge success. My children felt nothing toward the man, and he didn’t want the challenge of a four-year-old. (He had married later in life, stayed married less than 10 years, and had one well-behaved, mature-for-her-age daughter. Need I explain further?)

The icing on the cake of the evening, however, was one distracting fact: his zipper was down all night long. It just added to everything about the evening that was a failure for me. (Those who know me best know what a problem THAT is for me!)

That night was our last date.

What I didn’t know was that I should have been thanking my boys for that.

A few days after that “kids included” date with a nearly 50-year-old man who forgot to zip his pants, I happened to be listening to the news (a very rare occurrence for me since becoming the subject of too many broadcasts back in 2009) and heard the radio station announce a local man was suing a health club because of harassment he received from other patrons of the club as he exercised. A commercial came on and I wondered what type of adult would be made fun of as he exercised, what type of person would perceive he was being made fun of while he exercised, and what type of person would sue over that.

I should have known.

The injured man came on air when the commercial ended and there was no mistaking that voice. That very unusual voice. The high voice of a man prone to whining. Bachelor #17!

I gave silent thanks to my boys for their behavior.

I need someone strong. I need someone who doesn’t care what people think. I need someone who can roll with the unexpected events in life, rise above the challenges and laugh in spite of it all. I need someone who doesn’t whine. And the last thing I want or need is to be involved with someone seeking negative publicity! I had enough of that in 2009! (Besides, it’s going to take someone with all of the above qualities to love me and accept the past I bring with me to any relationship–my baggage not of my creation.)

Goodbye Bachelor #17. I hope your court case works out for you–or at the very least, that you’re able to exercise, and live, in peace! That means no whining.

“It takes a genius to whine appealingly.” (F. Scott Fitzgerald)

I have yet to meet a genius.

Of Corpses, Fish and Flowers

Date: July 20, 2010 Author: Andrea Merriman

“That corpse you planted last year in your garden, Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year?” (T.S. Eliot)

I love “old-fashioned” flowers, like hollyhocks and peonies, but peonies are my favorite. Someone once told me peonies can live to be up to 90 years old. I don’t know if that is true, but it has made me love them even more.
I can’t imagine what they’ve seen and what they’ve survived to live that long.

Kind of like each of us as we live our unexpected lives.

My Colorado yard had LOTS of hollyhocks and peonies.

When I moved to Utah to begin a new chapter in my unexpected life, I left before my belongings. My former spouse, unemployed and waiting to be formally charged for the Ponzi scheme he perpetrated and the crimes he committed, moved my things to Utah for me after I was already working. Knowing how much I loved my peonies and that I had no money with which to buy new plants in Utah, the man I had divorced uprooted 2-3 peony plants from my Colorado yard and hauled them to Utah in buckets, hoping they could be transplanted in my new yard upon their arrival.

In the midst of working full time, tending my children in the evening, and trying to unpack and move in to our Utah home, one of the peony plants from Colorado died before I could plant them. I looked at it, dead, withered and lifeless in an orange Home Depot bucket, and realized I had a lot more in common with peonies than I’d thought. I felt like that plant looked and wondered if I was headed for the same fate. It felt like pieces of my heart were already there. But seeing the dead plant motivated me to plant the two remaining peony plants.

They looked dead, but I figured if that were the case, I couldn’t damage them further. I planted them in the middle of the July 2009 heat and went on living my life, not sure if they were alive enough to take root or if they’d survive the winter snow. I should have known better, though. I probably should have been more worried about whether or not they could survive my children!

Sometime during the winter, my four year old came to me one day, proudly holding an entire peony plant that he had uprooted. “Look Mom! Look what I found trying to grow in our yard! Look how strong I am! I ripped this whole bush out of the ground all by myself!”

My eyes were huge as I looked at the accomplishment dangling from his little hands–my peony plant, roots and all.

The loss of a plant, considering all I had lost, seemed like such a little thing. And it sounds petty, but in a year of disappointments I couldn’t help but add the peony plant to the list. But at the same time I acknowledged there were a lot bigger losses and issues in life, and in my world, than the loss of one pink peony plant. I had experienced too many to count in 2009 and as usual, knew I could choose to laugh or cry about things, so I shook my head at the absurdity of uprooting a plant from its home, hauling it several hundred miles in a bucket in the summer heat, transplanting it when it was mostly dead and with winter coming…and a small child finally doing it in.

I laughed.

It wasn’t THAT big a loss, but it’s still true: “Through humor, you can soften some of the worst blows that life delivers. And once you find laughter, no matter how painful your situation might be, you can survive it.” (Bill Cosby)

It reminded me of our attempt at having a fish for a pet several years earlier. The fish was new to our family when we left on a vacation to Africa for one month. And wouldn’t you know it, I forgot to arrange for anyone to feed it while we were gone! I realized my mistake partway through the trip and prepared myself for a dead fish when we returned home. To my shock, the fish was alive and swimming in its bowl when we returned to Colorado! I fed it, changed its water, and secretly admired the little fish’s survival instinct. The next evening however, as I did the dinner dishes, I realized the fish was missing. Apparently, our cleaning lady had come, hadn’t realized anything was swimming in the fish bowl, dumped the contents down the drain and washed the bowl!

In the case of the peony plant, all I could do was compliment my son on his brute strength, give his “huge” arm muscles a squeeze of admiration, and help him heft the remnants of my peony plant into the big garbage can outside. Another peony dead. Sometimes the best laid plans die or don’t work out due to circumstances beyond our control.

One peony plant was left, but who knew if it was even alive, or if it could survive the rest of the winter?

I was walking in my yard recently and saw it. The peony plant was still in the ground, thankfully. It was finally green. And to my surprise, there were blossoms getting ready to bloom! Who ever would have thought? And after all of this time, one year since it was first uprooted, has passed?

“Where flowers bloom so does hope.” (Lady Bird Johnson)

It looks like I’m going to have peonies after all. With my hope. In my unexpected life.

New Year’s Eve 2009

Date: July 19, 2010 Author: Andrea Merriman

Earlier this month marked the one year anniversary of the day my new and unexpected single life officially, legally, began.

It has been quite a year!

All of the fireworks this month reminded me of the last fireworks I experienced–New Year’s Eve 2009. My first New Year’s Eve as a single woman.

I spent it with one of the bachelor’s I’ve already written about. And as optimistic as I like to think I am, I probably felt a little pessimistic that night too. “An optimist stays up until midnight to see the new year in. A pessimist stays up to make sure the old year leaves.” (Bill Vaughan) That was me that night.

“Drop the last year into the silent limbo of the past. Let it go, for it was imperfect, and thank God that it can go.” (Brooks Atkinson) That was exactly how I felt. That was exactly what I did.

My New Year’s Eve involved dinner, dancing…and fireworks. And as far as “firsts” go, it wasn’t too bad.

But at midnight, as the fireworks exploded and I stood watching them light up the Salt Lake City skyline, I felt something unexpected.

Each time a firework exploded into a colorful shower of sparks and light, I felt the “thunder” of it in my chest and saw a moment from 2009 flash before my eyes: I was sitting with Shawn Merriman at the table as he told me of his crimes, pending prison sentence, that I was left alone and with nothing to raise our four children and then, BOOM! That moment was gone. I was watching my children’s world shatter, seeing their shocked expressions, tears and grief, wondering how I would survive the moment I was present as my children’s hearts were broken and their childhood illusions were shattered and then, BOOM! That moment was gone. I was driving away from my entire life, the only life I’d ever known as an adult into a completely unknown life in Utah, wondering how my heart would ever heal and then, BOOM! That moment was gone.

The flashbacks continued for several minutes. Each explosion of light blasted away a hard experience from 2009; a piece of pain from the previous year. Pain I didn’t even know was mine, I’d become so accustomed to living with it.

Burdens I hadn’t even known I’d been carrying were lifted. I was stunned at how good it felt to see, hear and feel it all going away. It was healing.

So aside from the marriage proposal I got earlier that day (#2, if anyone’s counting!) that is what I remember most about New Year’s 2009. The fireworks. What they represented and how they felt to me.

Life was getting better every day and I knew that someday, every day would be a celebration again. That my children and I would continue on the path to happiness and joy in our new and unexpected life.

Just as the old moments had passed with each firework that exploded, new moments and memories were taking their place: my three-year-old taking off on his bike sans training wheels down our new Utah street, the family dance party my middle son was standing on a bench busting his best disco-karate moves and the bench shattered beneath him (he was ok, but we all got a huge laugh out of the whole adventure–and the first time I’ve ever lost a piece of furniture to a child’s antics), our first Christmas as a new family unit, our “group hugs,” the family drives, evenings in the canyon, and even our first family vacation.

“Everything is created from moment to moment, always new. Like fireworks, this universe is a celebration and you are the spectator contemplating the eternal Fourth of July of your absolute splendor.” (Francis Lucille)

You just have to keep living.

Bachelor #16: The Doctor Is In (Town)

Date: July 15, 2010 Author: Andrea Merriman

I met Bachelor #16 online. He was a doctor living in Northern Utah. He was a few years younger than me and seemed quite nice and normal–other than the fact he was willing to drive four hours just to go to dinner with me!

He was also the first man I dated that I tested out the whole “don’t tell every detail of your story, just one aspect of it” tactic on. And to my amazement, it worked! I told just one reason I had divorced when asked my story, it was comparable to his, and the conversation turned to other things without me having to reveal every aspect of my marriage that had ended in disaster.

But wouldn’t you know it, and as the evening progressed, the doctor wanted to know a lot more about my children. Specifically, if their father paid child support and exactly how often they saw him or spent time with him. I don’t recall that I’d ever been asked that before, so Bachelor #14 had never prepped me about what to say about that and sometimes I’m not so quick-thinking on my feet! That darn deer-caught-in-headlights look I’ve gotten so good at was evident in my face.

I didn’t know what to say, so I told the truth. I answered honestly: their father wasn’t employed and he lived in another state which made regular contact impossible due to his situation and lack of funds, my financial situation and my work schedule. I told him my children had contact with him through letters and twice-monthly phone calls which I paid for.

Bachelor #16 couldn’t believe that. It bothered him so much that through the rest of the evening he kept coming back to that and asking more questions about my children’s father, his child support, and their contact with him. I answered the questions, but offered no details.

To my surprise, his concern seemed to have less to do with my former spouse and more to do with my mothering: what kind of mother would stand for that? What kind of mother would allow that? What kind of mother would let that be the extent of a father’s involvement? What kind of mother would support such a dysfunctional family situation? He warned me of potential ramifications in later years as a result of my tolerance for an absentee father.

There is nothing I could say to that. He may well be right, although I’ve been working since 2009 when our unexpected life began, and I’ll continue to be working my children’s entire lives, to prevent that. You have to make the best of what you’ve got. And in that regard, I admit, I don’t have much. I’m simply doing the best I can and then relying on others (friends, family, neighbors and many good men) to make up the difference for my children until someone, someday, becomes their father.

Bachelor #16 was also upfront about what he wanted from a woman: more children. I had to be honest about that, too, and tell him I was unable to accommodate that plan.

As for me, I discovered Bachelor #16 wasn’t very close to his mother or siblings, he touched feet all day long (turns out he was a podiatrist), and neither of those things worked for me. Clearly there was no magic.

“That’s the thing with magic. You’ve got to know it’s still here, all around us, or it just stays invisible for you.” (Charles de Lint)

So long, Bachelor #16.

Not Fair

Date: July 14, 2010 Author: Andrea Merriman

I met an old friend and his wife for lunch a few months ago. We hadn’t seen each other in person since 1989 but he was exactly the same–same good person, same nice guy, same handsome man (now a husband and father), same terrific sense of humor. In some ways, he hasn’t changed a bit! Then he smiled and I saw something was different.

He had gotten braces. As the daughter of an orthodontist, I had to acknowledge them. He made a joke about them–something about a mid-life crisis and how it wasn’t fair.

THAT made me laugh. I mean, what IS fair?

I corrected him, “No, what’s NOT fair is having to be single again after having four children! What’s NOT fair is having to date when the wrinkles are showing!” But I felt his pain. I was secretly fixing my own shifting teeth with Invisalign at night. The things we do mid-life.

What’s also NOT fair is having to repeat some teenage experiences–like dating and battling acne at the same time! That was an experience I always thought was best left in the 1980s and can you believe my good fortune? Forty-two years old and getting some acne again? I consulted my dermatologist about it. I wanted him to “magically” make it stop and he told me he couldn’t do anything, that the acne was most likely caused by hormones. Probably the “old age” kind of hormones, knowing MY luck!

No, life isn’t fair. Especially the unexpected life. But I’m thankful I’ve got one. Each new day is unexpected. Each new experience (and challenge) a blessing.

July 13, 2010: Life Lesson of The Unexpected Life

Date: July 13, 2010 Author: Andrea Merriman

I’ve lived a few tough days in my life.

Here are just a few: September 26, 1986, the day the wreckage of my dad’s airplane was discovered and our wait to know his fate was over (as was his life); May 4, 2006, the day my mom suffered a massive stroke and doctors gave her less than 48 hours to live (she actually died a few hours later as I was rushing to Utah to see her one last time before she passed away); March 18, 2009, the day Shawn Merriman (my then-husband) informed me his business was a sham, that he had been running a Ponzi scheme since approximately 1994, that he had turned himself in to authorities, that he was headed to prison for a long time, that all of our assets were seized and I was left with nothing and left alone to raise our four children; and July 13, 2009, the day my divorce was final and I left Colorado for Utah to pick up the pieces and begin a new life.

Although there are a few other “miscellaneous” hard days I’ve endured, the above four days come to mind when I think of difficult days I’ve lived.

A few months ago I was struck by the realization of how much I’ve learned over the past year–things of a spiritual nature, things about myself and what I am capable of, things about people and humanity and life in general. So many things I have learned.

I realized I am grateful for every single thing I have learned. Even the hard stuff.

And I was shocked to realize I feel the lessons I’ve learned are worth the price I have paid.

I never imagined (especially during 2009) I would ever be able to say that or feel this way but I do. In fact, I would do it all over again. I would go through everything I’ve experienced again to learn what I have learned and to get where I am today. The lessons have been that valuable to me.

Mark Twain was right: “If you hold a cat by the tail you learn things you cannot learn any other way.” That’s true of life, too! Especially the unexpected life.

I believe that in life, when we’re holding that tail firmly in our grasp because there is nothing else we can do, and if we do our best to keep pressing forward through all of the noise, claws and pain, and if we can be humble and introspective and attempt to learn all we can and to better ourselves while enduring the challenges rather than question, “Why me? Why is this happening to me?” and, “If only,” we will come to the same realization Mark Twain did.

We will learn things we cannot learn any other way. We’ll be better for having learned them. And hopefully, we will be grateful for what we have learned and the growth we have achieved. I believe that is one purpose of the unexpected life.

And not that we’d want to, but “If we could sell our experiences for what they cost us, we’d all be millionaires!” (Abigail Van Buren) A fun way to look at the lessons (and their value to us) in an unexpected life.

Another lesson I’ve learned is this: “Today was a difficult day. Tomorrow will be better.” (Kevin Henkes, “Lilly’s Purple Plastic Purse”)

It really will.

Test Your Memory

Date: July 12, 2010 Author: Andrea Merriman

“If you want to test your memory, try to recall what you were worrying about one year ago today.” (E. Joseph Cossman)

One year ago today I was worrying about the fact I was spending my last night as an officially married woman. The next morning was the day I drove to the courthouse, got divorced, went home and loaded my car with my suitcases, two youngest children and two dogs, and drove to Utah.

One year ago today I cried myself to sleep (not that I was able to sleep much.)

One year ago today I was worrying and wondering about creating a new life and rebuilding a new existence for my children and I. I worried about how I was going to do that, and I wondered how it was all going to work out. I struggled to comprehend what the new and unexpected life could possibly turn out to be.

July 12, 2009.

A day and a night of worry and burdens heavier than I ever imagined I would bear and pain I didn’t know how I was going to live through.

That’s what I was worrying about one year ago today.

But pain and enduring in spite of it is an interesting thing. “Pain is temporary. It may last a minute, or an hour, or a day, or a year, but eventually it will subside and something else will take its place. If I quit, however, it lasts forever.” (Lance Armstrong)

I am so glad I didn’t quit last year when the going was SO rough. I am so grateful that somehow I kept pressing forward. Because the pain is gone.

July 12, 2010.

Today, I’m not worrying about anything.

More Than Divorce To Make a Friendship

Date: July 12, 2010 Author: Andrea Merriman

“Every person is a new door to a different world.” (from movie “Six Degrees of Seperation”)

When I first moved to Utah, I met several women at church who introduced themselves to me and were very nice. I liked them and looked forward to getting to know them better and building a friendship with them. Instead, every one of them suggested I get to know a certain woman in the congregation. “We think you’d REALLY like her.”

I had left my friends behind in Colorado and missed them terribly. I didn’t know who the other woman was, but was so excited that there was a new friend waiting for me in Utah! I wondered if we were the same age, had the same talents, looked alike, had the same interests or what it was about me that reminded them of someone they already knew–and who they thought I’d be great friends with.

I soon found out. The woman was divorced.

“Being divorced is like being hit by a Mack truck. If you live through it, you start looking very carefully to the right and to the left.” (Jean Kerr)

Unfortunately, it takes more than a Mack truck to make a friendship!

I met the woman and couldn’t sense we had a single thing in common other than we were both divorced. We smile at each other and say hello, but that is the extent of our friendship. I have to say it again, it takes more than divorce (or having similar single status) to make a friendship.

The experience made me stop and wonder how often we categorize people, or make judgements about people, and cut ourselves off from many enriching experiences based on just one aspect of another’s existence. Although I’m a person who generally operates under the philosophy of “the more, the merrier,” I have been guilty of this in my own life on occasion and I have to wonder, “Did I ever compartmentalize friendship opportunities based on marital status?” I don’t think I did, but I hope, again, that I did not!

C.S. Lewis said, “Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art… It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that give value to survival.”

My artist sister may argue with me about art not being necessary to survival (lol) and I am quite an art lover myself in my own way. So there is a part of me that disagrees with C.S. Lewis–especially the part of me that wonders how I would ever have lived through the events of the past almost year without friends. But this I know and do agree with C.S. Lewis about: friends have added color to what was at moments, the bleak canvas of an unexpected life.

When the canvas of my existence was revealed to be a forgery, when the museum my canvas was housed in was seized, and when everything about my life’s art was devalued by others and even destroyed on some levels by the choices of another, my friends were there for me. They helped give value to my survival. And that helped me do the same for myself and my children. And to keep pressing forward when I didn’t even have an idea of the picture I was striving to create.

Friendships HAVE touched my soul and enriched my life. I am so grateful and so blessed to have friends like that, who continue to give value to my survival and add color to my existence. So thank you, again, to my old friends and my new friends.

I don’t know what I’d do without each of you and your good influence in my life! Each of my friends has broadened my perspective and enlarged my world. And made it so fun and so valuable. I am touched every single day of my life by the kindness of friends. I hope every person in the world feels that same way about friends, their friends, and the doors to new worlds each friend we make opens to us.

“This is my wish for you: Comfort on difficult days, smiles when sadness intrudes, rainbows to follow the clouds, laughter to kiss your lips, sunsets to warm your heart, hugs when spirits sag, beauty for your eyes to see, friendships to brighten your being, faith so that you can believe, confidence for when you doubt, courage to know yourself, patience to accept the truth, Love to complete your life.” (lynnie_buttercup)

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