Message from Wendy
I was the 4th born into a single parent home in 1960; Vietnam took my eldest brother in the most tragic of ways. In 1973, my youngest brother was born. In 1980 I was married in a small church, 1986 our first child was born, then our second in 1988. In 1991 I separated from my spouse, never to re-unite and in 1996 finally divorced. In 2000 I graduated from nursing college. In 2001, after one year of saving pennies and quarters for the fee to sit for my national nursing exam, I passed with a generous margin. Currently I maintain a nursing license in three US states. I have never re-married. I am patiently waiting for my 2 children to provide me with grandchildren. In the mean time I have Bear, Baby kitty, Kiki kitty, Boo kitty, and white kitty.
A biography is a detailed description of someone’s life. There are some points in our life, where when we look back we can say, “That point in time, made every difference in my life”.
“I wish I had a twist tie for every mile I have walked”, that’s not what he said but that’s what I heard. Never be without twist ties or shoe laces. You never know when you might need them. They bind, they tie and as long as you have your supply you will be able to survive.
As a young, struggling single mother of two very beautiful yet very young children, I could not look past the day in which we lived; for this day we needed to clothe our bodies and eat. So from day to day I simply put one foot in front of the other, one step at a time, slowly walking to a better future. While I have never been in war or fought for my own life, I can only imagine a soldier must have the same mentality: one day at a time, one foot in front of the other, and mile after mile, until he reaches a better future. When this struggle for survival encompasses a span of years, even decades, time and circumstance cannot pass without leaving a permanent scar. The soldier’s scars are permanently fixed on his body and his soul. My scars are etched in my mind and in my spirit, forever changed.
I searched desperately for just one more twist tie, pushing aside broken door knobs, screw drivers and electrical cords in my kitchen junk drawer, “How can this be?” I moaned between tears which were always so close to the surface, “I could not have used them all, I had so many saved”! Suddenly, everything I had accomplished in the day did not matter, working my ass off for minimum wage, juggling the bills, studying for exams, apologizing and successfully begging the baby sitter to wait another week for her pay check. All of it didn’t matter. I had no twist ties. My son was absorbed in playing with a set of blocks on the living room floor. My daughter however, was standing next to me, watching the tears well up in my eyes. She wrapped her little arm around my left leg like a vice, with her thumb reaching to her mouth, her left hand reaching up to her delicate blonde hair. She always did this; soon I would hear the snapping of what little wisps of hair are left on her head. I reached down and placed my hand on her head, snuggly placing her against my thigh. My heart ached for them both, the stark knowledge of not being able to provide a better life for them, made my tears come more quickly.
I need to talk to someone, just hear another voice I thought. But what would I say? “I have no twist ties and our lives are falling apart?” My rising panic quickly overcame my pride. I reached out to the only person who might understand, Patricia.
Pat answered the phone cheerfully with her usual greeting “you are such a bitch, what do you want”? Immediately I smiled and my smile became a laugh, then I was able to speak;”I know this may sound strange, well maybe not coming from me but…I’m out of twist ties”. With an occasional sob, and shaking voice I continued. “You know how those old ladies who lived through the depression save plastic bags? They save them everywhere, plastic bags in the cabinets, plastic bags in the drawers, plastic bags under the mattress…” Pat interrupted me before I could go on, “I understand, I’ll be right over”. Within minutes Pat was at my side with a plastic baggie full of twist ties and a bottle of red wine. A most precious and severe gift any one has ever given me.
Now fast forward to present day 2013. My children are grown, happy and healthy. My son has a better understanding of the human psyche than most people, including me. My daughter is fierce and adorable, with a full head of long beautiful blonde hair. As for me, it is the smallest of pleasures that bring the most joy. And I’m still walking: warm day walks with my faithful companion “Bear”; who absolutely must pause every five feet and smell the doggy trail. I have abandoned my need for twist ties, although I have never again been without a baggie full of them. Now on our warm day walks I hunt for treasure; the perfect pine and oak logs to feed our peaceful fire on a clear cool night. Sometimes, I even walk in the city with the one woman who knows me best, Patricia.
Florilegium ft. Wendy and Lorrie Sarafin
The Diary of an Angel
The Diary was in my position for a short few days and in that time I was able to value it’s amazing presence. So many lives, cultures, heart aches, joy and talent laid into one enormous project. Thank you Kyp… for your vision and dedication
Thank you for not giving up and continuing the walk year after year.
© All rights reserved to the poetry and writings by Wendy Milne