Reverb 14, Day 2

1. What unfinished projects from 2014 am you willing to release now? (Regret not required.)

2. Gorgeous | When did you feel beautiful this year?  Why?

Well, first off, I'm releasing the unfinished August Moon prompts. And whatever other writing prompts I did not complete for whatever reason. I got busy, okay? Or I didn't. Or there was something else I wanted to do instead. Or they just didn't grab me. It's all right.

There are unfinished tasks from this year that remain, but I also figure that when I get there, I'll finish them -- like filing paperwork from R's disability money -- that I released a year ago! Like cleaning the attic and pitching and organizing stuff up there that needs to be kept. Maybe in 2015. Ain't gonna happen in 2014.

You know, it really matters not one tittle what I am willing or not willing to release: this year is 29 days from being O-V-E-R. History. What I wanted to get done is likely something that no one else will ever remember, if they even knew about it to begin with. 

What I *did* get done was to have a cardiac ablation, hopefully to remain in normal sinus rhythm from here on. That was major. Huge, actually. I overcame all the fear and post-traumatic stress from a misdiagnosed heart attack 12 years ago (that was actually a gangrenous gall bladder!) and GOT. IT. DONE. 

We live one day at a time around here, at least as much as our sometimes too active imagination will permit. We take care of ourselves and what needs doing in this day, in this moment. If it remains undone and carries over to tomorrow, it likely wasn't a huge concern. That works. I expect it will going forward as well.

*****

My first thought on reading this "beautiful' prompt was "uh, not." I have never thought of myself as 'beautiful,' ever. Adequate, yes. Not scary, yes. Even sometimes pretty, especially my hair and eyes. But not beautiful.

But you know when I am most beautiful? When even I know it, right down to my pinky toe?

When my beloved husband looks at me and tells me so, the love shining so brightly from his eyes that I see myself as he does. He doesn't see wrinkles or veiny hands or blotchy skin. He doesn't see the thousand and one imperfections that my eyes do. He sees my soul, the one that adores him, loves our life together; the one that tries to be kind and gentle and caring, always to him, imperfectly to the rest of the world, but trying.

He makes me feel beautiful and cherished and so, so blessed.  Thank you, my sweet, for that gift.