Today, April 8, is my birthday. The bad news is -- they keep coming. The good news is -- they keep coming.
I share this day with a remarkable woman -- Elizabeth Bacon Custer. Today, I feel very jealous of Libbie who spent most of her life as a widow. She was wildly in love with George, "Autie," and followed him in one adventure after another until he and four other members of his family died at the Little Big Horn, June 25, 1876. Libbie lived until 1933.
I am envious of this awesome love--that even though the man died this love did not. I've always struggled to be myself in a relationship, sometimes losing myself in an effort to please. On the other hand, when I try to be open and honest, it just seems too much for someone else to handle. Many of us struggle with this, I suppose, striking that balance of what to share, how open to be.
"Never wear your heart on your sleeve," my mother reminded me. I never got it. When I feel, I just pour it out. After all these years, all these broken hearts, I still trust too easily, believe too easily, believe that love happens again and again.
Some romantics are never cured. We believe in love and continue to fight.
