Looking Glass

   Tuesday morning, when I unplugged my cell phone from it's night of charging, my dear, guy friend had sent me a text the night before. It said, "Finally read the entire blog. Turn it into a book. Your writing style is amazing." I held my heart then texted him back, "Ha. Amazing may be an exaggerated term. But thanks. I can't believe you read the whole thing. Aw."    As part of my morning routine, I sit at my computer with a fresh cup of coffee and check my favorite on line sites and emails. He had emailed me a letter, too. Anxious to see what it was, I opened the attachment and saw a Word Document spring open before my eyes. It was titled, "Letter to Claire", (though he used my real name.)     He thoughtfully complimented my blog after reading the WHOLE thing. He said he was convinced that someday I will do an author signing. He appreciated, "thought provoking statements has allowed me to look deeper into your soul", even though we ha...

When I think of glass, many objects cross my mind in visualization of this product. Windows, (of course), which allow us to see the world from an inside view. I picture skyscrapers across America with  glass walls, allowing reflections to bounce from them, or to protect the mannequins from strangers' hands. Glass jars, trillions of shapes, sizes and colors, that can hold anything from flowers to noodles, or life... like an embryo to a firefly. I think of the windshield of my car, with two cracks running down the passenger side. A mar left from passing trucks, flinging rocks at my Honda. I think of rocket ships and the glass windshields on them. What strength these objects have to withstand so much pressure, pings, weather and the like. Amazing, isn't it? Yet, when packing to move, or rearranging something with glass, we are so protective and careful to wrap it for transport, or lift it with gentle hands. We know of it's fragility. I think the human character is, as glass. ...

   I decided to read some of my older posts today. I wanted to see my development, from the beginning of this blog. I thought, if needed, maybe I would explain some points. In accordance with my original post, I should explain the ending of where I said I was the product of my mother and father's love, though I never had a dad. I am the ninth child, but my father had Leukemia for some months prior to my birth. He died a week before I was born. So, yes, my mother had a funeral for her husband, and then gave birth to her last baby a week later. I guess my older sister was in the delivery room with her. A bond still remembered, by her.    I have reviewed all of the posts of my deepened, saddened feelings of  my second divorce. I have healed tremendously, since the beginning. I still have scars, and sometimes, I wonder, if being completely healed will ever be within me. I feel as though there will always be an undercurrent of loss and bewilderment. But that is okay...

In my post of Monday, April 4th, I described the drive and my gut feeling that an event would be happening to someone I know. An ominous, sad event. A life changing event. I wonder if it is the death of my ex father in law?