When I was a little girl I would not say shit if I had mouth full.
My father was the type that you did not speak back to , which I have no problem with but he was also the type of man that you did not give your opinion to and you can guarantee that my opinion was never asked for.
My mother was one that when you felt really brave you might tell her what you think but only with one eye open and never looking at her with the opened eye.
No they were not abusive, but they were stern.
My way of getting mad and throwing a fit would mean that I would just stop talking. I mean seriously not speak at all, not even to myself in my own room with closed doors.
After getting married, I tried the whole throwing a silent fit any time that I got mad at Papa but he didn't seem to care that I would stop talking to him for days. As a matter of fact he seemed to enjoy it. Then I quickly learned that Papa loved it when I stopped talking to him, I mean it was like he had died and gone to man heaven.
So slowly year after year I would express myself, learning how to manage my words in a way that may throw him for a loop or two.
Now I like to think that I am able to knock him of his feet with my way of words.
That is if I can get past the anger first and make the sailor in me take a step back and really tell someone what I am feeling other than let my tongue roll like a kid on roller coaster.
The fact is that I can now talk a persons ear off.
Could it be all those years that I held it in, only keeping my thoughts to myself that suddenly I am compelled to give my thoughts on almost anything and everything.
When I am at work I almost fear walking down the hall because I know if I see someone I must ask them how they are doing and really have a meaningful conversation with them even if I am really in a hurry to get back to the classroom.
I do want to know how they are doing.
Really I do.
If they need someone to talk to, I want to listen to what they have to say.
Really I do.
In return for all my listening and talking I have met some really wonderful people that I call my friends.
And today I had a conversation with someone that I have called my friend for many years.
This friend makes me take a look at myself and asks me really what is it that I want out of this life.
This friend re-energizes me to thinking that I can keep up the fight of life and all its knocks and bumps and come out stronger and more powerful than before.
All the while he is listening to my woes I know he has many other things that he needs to tend to but he listens to each every word that I say.
Who doesn't need a friend like this.
I am blessed with friends whom I know will and have come to my aide when ever I need them.
(You know who you are....Picture Momma)
I just want those people to know how much I love them and how I feel so blessed that they are a part of my life, whether or not we keep in touch once a week or once a year.
My children are the backbone of my strength but filling up all those other spots that I may be week in are my friends, my amigo's, my amico, my péngyou, my ven, my ami.
Regardless of how your language pronounces friend the meaning is the same across the world.
I hope that each of you have a friend that you cherish.