Photo by Magnus Polla, Fjärås,Sweden copyright2023

There are few people who make us feel special, something most humans crave at some point in their lives. One expects parents to find us special, extraordinarily so yet sometimes the ones who are most likely to believe in you simply don’t. The why’s are a mixed bag of variables so it’s not an easy script to sum up; ROCK is the strongest, deepest part of LittleMe, the one who shakes me out of the darkness and sets me straight, well at least gives me some sort of hope in a really shoddy world at times. MiddleMe is trying desperately to accept GettingOldMe and time seems to be in fast forward. As most of my readers know, ROCK and MiddleMe have spent so much time trying to heal LittleMe and just when there is this triumphant breakthrough, she’s triggered and falls down into her dank, silent cave. Being nothing special is alright I suppose as I am just a stone, a discarded carved art project left in the woods who was rescued by a curious boy. He grew up and married twice and I sat at his mother’s country house for years without much notice. Then, there was something about my face, my expression rather, that spoke to my human’s second wife so deeply that she brought me to my year round, hopefully lifelong home. She took photos of me, created my persona and put me in this blog. She made me her hero and I am like, I hate to say this, a rock star! Haha. We have to laugh about my meaningfulness. Truth be known, she is the strong one, pulling herself up over and over, not me. I want to give her credit because she is special, even though the people she loved most before her child and husband didn’t make her feel that way. Her new approach is cognitive therapy, soft yoga and pouring on the love to those who have brought her the gift of loyalty. In the big scheme of things she knows she is nothing special, but I sure think she ought to be to a whole lot of not so nice people. GettingOldMe (GOM for making things easier on arthritic fingers) is still dragging LittleMe around like that box of junk that sits for ages in the back of your car and never makes it to the recycling station or dump. MiddleMe is hurting as she watches her own young adult child struggle, and is starting to give up on should be wonderful, meaningful, relationships and is just learning to accept them as tragedies of her life, shake loose, let ’em fall. They should have seen her special, praised and carried her in their spirits always, but they dropped her. She just was too nothing special.