Hallmark, Mary Engelbreit, & Me

For the past two days, I've been living inside my own Hallmark movie. It follows their very successful formula. One that never varies. Why should it. Flashback to Carol Reigh's Open Barn. Summer. I bought the most beautiful scarf. A Bonnie Heinrich scarf. Special. Very. Baby alpaca. First shearing. White. With a hint--not overdone--of added shimmer. Crocheted. A stunner.

It was not just another beautiful scarf. It was special to me. I wore it night and day throughout my recent skin cancer. Squamish cell carcenoma. Two surgeries. Kept me warm. Made me feel safe. My Linus blanket.

Lost it. No clue where or how. If I had, it would be found. And for two days I have been beyond upset. With myself. Almost OCD over it. See Hallmark's pattern. The Black Beauty story, any good story, modernized. Sort of. Starts wonderful. Slips into sadness, conflict. Any kind will do. Then everything reverts to happy endings. Full circle.

So here I am. Even my happy song and my wonderfully sympathetic cats (yes, they know something's amiss) are not pulling me back to ever after.

Life Lesson: what I've learned. Life is a Hallmark movie, but we need to script our own endings. And that's what I'm doing right now. Catharsis. Getting beyond, yes, I know, a scarf. Life is more important. Beating cancer is more important. Helping others. And my list is endless of what is more important. In a word: everything.

So I'm picturing a Mary Engelbreit greeting card I had years ago that said, "Get over it." And I am.

And I refuse in the future to get so bent out of shape over someTHING so simple like a scarf. Yep.! I'm over it. With this last period.

 

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