I came here tonight to think and maybe type off some of my anxiety. The night has been gloomy here and already I’m sick of January. I usually don’t get the need to bitch about the weather until March. I always look forward to February because I like to wander into the local grocer and stand and stare at all the Valentine candy, not buy any, then return a few days to realize that the store clearance all the candy out and the stuff I want is gone. Then I think to myself, all that stuff is crapola anyway and the good stuff never goes on sale so by then, Easter is upon us. I never buy Easter candy because it’s always stale anyway. The chocolate is cheap and the Bunnies are hollow and always taste like Brach’s chocolate. That has got to be the most disgusting chocolate made. When I was a kid, I never wanted that junk, I wanted to live bunnies and chicks to have and hold. My Mother always had the egg coloring extravaganza set for us and she always let us do our decorating, by ourselves, and believe me we decorated. We decorated the eggs, the table, the plates and ourselves. All good memories for us growing up, and my kids had special times due to my experiencing the good things from childhood that were given out by my parents to me and my siblings. I often feel at times we were rather spoiled and then when I think about it another way, I felt that it sucked being me because I was a middle child, not to mention the allergies and all the accidents I was involved in that could have been prevented if Mother had only watched me closer and not let me take off on a green broke horse. I remember riding into town for a horse show when I was 9 or 10 and riding down the median of the 4 lane highway. All those semis buzzing by blowing their horns at me as if I’m in the road and not the grassy median. Mother did drive beside me the 3-mile trip until I got a couple of years older and then I went alone for the 4-H meetings we would have each week. I remember thinking many times when I was sweating my butt off in the hot sun, why do other kids have their Dads take them in nice horse trailers. Why can’t my parents take my riding more seriously and come to watch my horse show? Why does my Mother not bring a cooler of food and drinks and watch my show, and clap and take my picture when I come out of that gate with a ribbon? Other parents were under shade trees watching and praising their kids. Ah, it wasn’t a bad thing, just a lonely thing. Maybe why I grew up to not have a lot of friends and when I did go out and about in life, dancing or shopping, or where ever, I just went by myself. I like to think I turned out ok but sometimes I questioned my parenting skills. Maybe I tried to be too good of a parent and smothered my kids. Yes, I’m sure I did at times. I never wanted them to go through some of the unpleasant experiences I did, but mostly it was because I cared for them so deeply, I used my past as a template laying their future groundwork so they didn’t have to feel that aloneness I did. It’s funny that even after all that trying I have so many regrets that I’d like to just can and store in the basement.

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