What do you think? One of my friends says she didn't like it but she only saw this pic so she needs to see it in person! Everyone else said that they LOVE it on me and that I look great in it! I got it from Avon by the way if your interested in buying one for yourself, lol.
I was reading a favorite blog of mine called "Mila's Daydreams" I'm sure you've heard of it :) and the author of the blog has written, with the help of her husband, a lullaby for her daughter Mila that was soooo compelling to me that I had to write a story about it!
It's a beautiful story that I will post here after I have gotten approval from Adel Enersson for writing a story about her lullaby. I want her to have approval whether I post the story or not because of the people who have been stealing photo's of her daughter and posting them without her permission. So out of respect for her talent I asked her to read my story and approve it and then to allow me to publish it to my blog.
You have no idea what a release it was to have the inspiration to write something as I haven't had the energy or wherewithal to write anything new for a long time. It's so freeing to beable to have a story, character in your mind and then to get it all on paper just as you see it in your head. Its freeing to me to have an outlet for the voices in my head that try to tell me about themselves.
If you don't know what its like picture a thing that you want or a song that makes you smile and then imagine that the thing you want is sold out or the song that you heard once or twice and fell in love with only to never hear it again. Then imagine that that thing came up for grabs at a discounted price and you were able to afford it or that the song that had haunted you for days/weeks/months finally came out on cd and you finally got to hear it again after so long. Doesn't it make you smile? Doesn't it give you a release so profound that you become inordinantly proud of it that you have to show it off or play it for everyone that comes around.
THAT is what its like to have stories/voices/characters in your head and to finally get them on paper in a way that makes the imagery in your head worthwhile, and sometimes, sometimes its better on paper than it ever was in your head:)
You all will have to settle for something thats not my new story till I get approval from Mrs. Enersson but when you do get to read it it will be worth the wait.This painting is by Berthe Morisot and was my inspiration for the story below as it was my humanities homework, :)
I will never understand or know why he picked me that night, but I thank God everyday that he did. Still, even now I always wonder ‘What did he see in me that made me ‘the one.’ Do you know why, because I don’t know why a man of thirty-five would choose to marry a girl of sixteen? I see myself as I did then a girl frightened to death of what was to come, but hoping to please an unpleasant father.
You see then it was a happy time for the world was young and the industrial age just beginning. Women wore dresses, gloves and hats on a daily basis, and oh, how I longed to be one of them when I grew up. Then when it happened I wanted to go back. Back to the care free days of when I was a child watching my brothers and sisters playing and laughing. Being the youngest of five I was spoiled and cherished….until.
Until the fever came and I and my father the only survivors. To this day I don’t think he ever forgave me for that. For being his only living daughter and not his only living son. I had a nanny from then on along with untold tutors. I was taught well and given everything a girl needed but not wanted. I was tutored to become a lady and a lady I became. Then I turned sixteen and it was time for me to marry.
On the day I was to meet my betrothed my father said,
“I have done my duty by you Daughter. Now it is your turn to do your duty by me. Gibe me grandsons. I need an heir for I refuse to leave everything to some pea witted female.”
I could only stare as he left my room, and when Nanny came to me I cried. She calmed me and held me close and when my tears finally dried I said,
“Oh, Nanny, It’s horrible. He doesn’t care. I realize that now. He only cares about a male heir. You heard what he said to me. Now I’m afraid he’s paid some man to be the stud to my brood mare. Oh, I hate him. I do. I hate them all.” I looked up and Nanny looked at me with sad eyes that knew and saw too much, and I felt guilty. Guilty and ashamed like I had betrayed the memory of my family somehow by saying those words. I don’t’ remember what Nanny said to me after that but I do know that it made me feel as if the new life I was getting would be better than the one I was leaving.
When nanny left I dressed myself not waiting for the maid for now I was filled with anticipation for the life that I know could not be worse than the one I was living. I stood in front of the mirror for long moments wondering ‘What will he see in me? Will he see me or only what he wants to see? Will he like me? Will I fall madly in love like one of Nanny’s stories?’ all the thoughts that go on in a young girls head when meeting with a man.
I stood in front of the mirror thinking all those rampant thoughts until I found the courage to walk down the stairs. Now that I look back it was the worst and best day of my life. I got a loving husband and I left the only person to ever love me after the tragic deaths of my mother and siblings, my Nanny, all at once. It was bittersweet day. A year past before my father finally got his wish for a grandson, but he never lived to see him born. In the end he had to leave everything to me ‘a pea witted female.’ I and my husband had three children two sons and a daughter. She is the very image of me who, I found out later, is the very image of my mother. This I found out while going through the things in my fathers house. A painting done of my mother when she was but a girl looking at it made me see what my father always did when he looked at me, my mother. I looked closer and there was a plaque on the front of the painting that titled it “Anticipation” and described “the Painting of Lilith on the eve of her wedding.”
As I looked at this painting I remembered staring at myself the very same way when I was to meet my husband Marshall. And after all these years of having a happy and love filled life despite my father, or maybe because of him, I still wonder if he ever saw me for me, or remembered my name. Maybe I looked too much like my beloved mother, his wife, for him to stand the sight of me. I don’t know and I never will. He never addressed me as anything but “Daughter.” Even on his death bed he called me “Daughter” and not by name. So when I look at this beautiful painting of my mother and think of the way I felt and looked at myself in the mirror on that fateful day it makes me think of my father and I want to scream at him and say,
“My name is’ Kaythrine’ Father not ‘Daughter’ remember! Remember when I was your little Kaytie Kat! Remember!”
Of course I can do no such thing, and will never do it, because I was tutored to be a lady and a lady I became.