The most important medicine

They told him he would be foolish to abandon everything he had spent his whole life creating. He had a successful legal office and had a good reputation among his peers.

But when his wife got sick, he didn’t consider it at all. For him it was obvious that his place was by her side. Always and at all costs. It was what they had vowed to each other so many years ago.

He didn’t see it as making sacrifices. He saw it as standing by and supporting the person he loved.

He didn’t care that he spent his whole life being next to her, even when she stopped remembering him. He continued his efforts to remind her of his love for her every day and refused to stop trying or to not be there, for her. So that she would feel safe and cared for.

He believed with all his heart that when you love someone you dedicate to them a part of your life, your time and your interest.

For him being with the person he loved and shared his life with was much more important that work, money and material goods.

Love is sometimes the most important medicine.

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Unplug yourself

©Dale Rogerson

“You know, almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few moments. Including you”. He squeezed her hand, as she looked at him and smiled.

He was the person who could see right through her even without her saying a single word about how she felt or the hurricane of thoughts in her mind.

She loved that about him. He knew exactly what to do and where to take her to unwind. To simply forget about everything for a while.

Like to this fun-filled colourful exhibition.

“Life is wonderful if you’re willing to experience it”, he added.

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

The actions we do voluntarily

“Every time you bend down to pat a cat or a dog, to take care of a wounded bird or an animal that needs you, you grow taller as a person”.

Daisy’s uncle was a vet and he had witnessed many examples of human cruelty. Behaviour he could neither explain nor understand.

He used it to teach his niece about life in general.

“People always say a lot. They announce promises they don’t intend on keeping. And make statements simply for pleasing others. They tend to speak what they believe others want to hear”.

As Daisy grew older, she understood more of what he was trying to say.

“It is people’s actions you should look for. How they behave when they have nothing to gain in return, what they do to keep you happy. It’s their actions that define who they are. Not the words they say”.

With the onset of her first heartbreak, Daisy realised that it is the simplest of things that can touch a person’s heart. Just like the attention you give to a stray, people too want to feel loved and cared for.

It is the “good mornings” and “good nights” you exchange with someone you love regardless the distance that is between you.

The fact that you tell them how much you miss them and all of a sudden they appear shortly after unannounced at your door so you won’t feel that pain any more.

It’s that hug you so long for after a difficult day when you feel broken and insecure.

It’s the things you do without being asked that show how much you really care.

Her uncle used to say, “In every relationship, be it with humans or with animals, the magic only lasts as long as you maintain the effort and believe in it. Indeed, ‘forever’ only has the duration you assign to it.

Life is the moments we spend being happy. Everything else is just a waste of time”.

The worst place you can be

We all hide a whirlwind of emotions inside, just waiting to be expressed. Often women more than men go through a series of alternating sentiments even during one single day. Perhaps we pay too much attention to the little things, overthink excessively and try to find connotations in every action.

The problem though lies with tolerating too much. With burying emotions inside in the hope of forgetting about them, of extinguishing their force and of somehow making things better. We all nurture that illusion that things will change without action from our part. As if magically the world will improve in the way we want it to.

There comes a time, however, when our feelings take over our reactions. Either because we are tired, hungry or simply exasperated by everything, there comes an emotional explosion that is sometimes out of character. We can’t always control what we feel. Like Elizabeth Gilbert said, “your emotions are the slaves to your thoughts, and you are the slave to your emotions”.

It is during those explosions that we need people close, no matter how far we push them away. We need to feel loved even in our toughest of times, when we are being difficult, obstinate and insecure. It is at our worst that we need the affection. To believe that it is just a phase and will pass, that we will come out stronger, and that, in the end, everything will be better than fine.

“Sometimes the worst place you can be is in your own head”.

What you see is often what you actually get

“For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction” – it’s Newton’s Third Law of Physics. Or put plainly: whatever you give out will come back to you.

Wouldn’t that be great if it were true? If all the attention, effort and emotion you put into your relationships, your work, your life in general, was reciprocated? If the people you were there for when they needed you, would also run to your side when difficulty hit your door?

We don’t always get what we deserve. No matter how much we try or appeal for it. Some things are beyond our control, and although it’s hard to swallow, we need to accept that we are not always responsible for the way people behave or even treat us. It’s a matter of character, of mentality, of experiences, of upbringing; of a series of factors we have no effect over.

What we can do is stop putting ourselves out there for people who won’t do the same for us. Because, usually, when people show you they don’t care, it’s because they probably really don’t. You need to pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and regain the strength you had before all the emotion got to your brain. Sometimes we need to behave more rationally than emotionally for our own mental health and wellbeing.

You reach a point at times when you realise there is no use in putting others before your own self. In the end, you’re most likely the only one who does.  And you simply end up losing yourself in the process.

Box of Memories

Three words. Four sides. A lifetime. A box, however big or small, is used to store things you don’t want to throw away, yet don’t want them in plain sight. The box we most cherish is the one that holds our memories. Some keep it inside their head. In that special place with all the thoughts they love to bring to mind. Others have a physical container filled with memorabilia from times that were too special for them to ever forget.

Each memory box is unique for every person who has one. Because not everyone has the same perception of the things that matter. Some people are overly sensitive, saving theatre tickets, beer caps, hand-written notes, printed photos, even dried-up flowers. They are things that encase more than a simple memory; a feeling that is worth remembering. Because it was at that time when they felt serene, loved and happy. When they believed that ‘forever’ is more than just wishful thinking but rather a word that could gain the meaning they want if they try hard enough.

Others have boxes with fewer things: books, music, photo frames, souvenirs, even clothes. More practical entities of what a memory entails.

But all have something in common: the memories we create are the feelings that make us stronger, more optimistic and resilient. They are proof that happiness does exist and will last as long as you are willing to nourish it.

No matter how many boxes of memories we create, we must all believe in the beauty of a happy ending. And the fact that we each deserve one.

White Ideal

©MCD

You don’t need to call him. He comes on his own when he sees you.

You don’t need to tell him. He feels you in your silence.

You don’t need to ask him for attention. He provides it willingly.

The comfort of feeling his heartbeat sync with yours. Of his gaze staring in your eyes. Of his warmth brush up against you.

He is white. Not as snow. But as a fluffy cotton ball.

With patches of grey so you can spot him in the snow.

With green eyes that glisten in the sunlight.

He doesn’t speak a lot. He doesn’t need to. Because he is the type who doesn’t need words or sounds to communicate.

He has a heart bigger than you can imagine. Because no matter how much you push him away, he always comes back as if you never revoked him. And he wants to share his hugs, his love, his warmth. Because he might seem naïve, but he still thinks everyone he meets is as nice and loving as him.

We would all be so lucky to have such people in our lives.

Shame that such traits can only be found in a cat, though.

The place we call home

©Ceayr

Home is where you feel safe.

It is the place where no matter how broken you are, you feel whole. As if all the pieces come together and are mended, even if only for a while.

It is the people who lift you up when you fall. Who are there to catch you when your wings are too soar to fly.

It is the love you receive from those who can hear your silence, who can feel your heart, even when you don’t say a word.

Home is something beyond a simple place.

It is an extension of your soul.

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

Cat-like

Women are like cats. They like attention but not too much and on their terms, are independent and self-sustainable, move around a room like they own it, like to sleep as much as possible, like to cuddle but only when they want to, and can disappear for hours doing their own thing with no-one really knowing what that is.

Women are like cats in that they can claw their way out of a fight, just as easily as they can start one.

But most of all, they are like cats in the sense that they can reciprocate the love you show them and be the source of your serenity.

Charity was the most cat-like girl Jessop had ever met. He could almost swear to hear her purr when she fell asleep in his arms. She fought for her autonomy and demonstrated that she could handle her affairs on her own. But every now and again she would crawl to his side and press into his chest for a tight hug, something that would make all the troubles she didn’t share just go away.

Jessop liked that she was dynamic and feisty. But he loved it more when she became the vulnerable, chirpy girl he fell in love with. After all, every man adores being the protector of his girl.

But over the past weeks, something happened. It was as if the cat inside her curled up and hid from the world. She wouldn’t talk much, her smile had faded and she barely ate. She wouldn’t respond to his questions, even getting agitated by them and would retreat to her bed, sleeping more than the usual hours.

One morning, Jessop woke up to find a note on his bedstand:

“If I show you I need you, take it seriously. It means more than just the words you understand. I do whatever I can to never have to depend on anyone, to avoid showing weakness and fear. But if I tell you I need you by my side, it means I am trusting you to catch me when I fall”.

The note was stained with droplets of tears.

Jessop sprung out of bed, got dressed and left.

He knew where she was. Cats always have a safe place. Somewhere they think no-one knows about, but if you follow them closely they’ll let you find them.

A radical flee

©Susan Eames

He just got up one morning and left.

It’s not something you usually do without intensive planning or careful thought. But sometimes it’s what you need.

It’s when you disappear or something serious happens that you realise the true nature of the people around you, who cares for you and who are worthy of being a part of your life.

Ivan was so fed up with the futility and hypocrisy of his surroundings, he had to act radically.

Then the phone rang.

“Where are you?” the female voice sounded concerned.

“On a tree, gazing at the ocean,” he replied serene.

Also part of Friday Fictioneers