Darling

Darling: (n) one dearly loved

Among the crowd who still know how to play Bingo, and sometimes even personally pursue it, there is an old saying:

“Is two enough? Is six too many?”

This question references how many prunes are beneficial to eat before you find yourself full of poop.

For those who are intimidated by constipation and blessed by regularity, this is an important inquiry.

But I also think the logic translates well over to the word “darling.”

There was an ancient song sung among “The Forty-Niners”—who were searching for gold in Sacramento. It was entitled, “Oh, My Darling Clementine.” Let me surmise the message of the tune.

One of these gold-diggers loved a woman named Clementine, who died. He missed her. So he sang about her—“My darling Clementine.”

I think in this case, using the word “darling” is acceptable, since the woman is dead and gone and some sort of mourning is in order.

But I do believe constantly calling our little children (especially females) “darling” sets these young ladies up for some of the greatest disappointments of their lives.

Here’s the issue:

Where do you go from darling?

I mean, if you’re trying to increase the level of appreciation or praise, what would be the word?

And, on the other hand, diminishing the term “darling” offers a whole series of insults that might leave our little darling devastated.

I would think it’s time for us to tell our children that they don’t need to be “darling” to be valuable.

Maybe a more specific series of words:

  • “That was a smart thing to do.”
  • “You really look good in that dress.”
  • “Oh, you combed your hair nicely.”
  • “Nice kick.”

But to sit and stare at a picture of your offspring and call her (or even him) “darling,” and expect to get Facebook likes to reinforce your opinion could be a tragic situation.

For after all, two prunes (or darlings) will keep things moving.

Six is just downright shit.

 

Bay Window

Bay window: (n) a window built to project outward from an outside wall.Dictionary B

I was recovering from wounds that had been self-inflicted by my indecision and fear.

For the previous two years I had lived in uncertainty concerning my value and mission. It did not rob me of all of my joy, but it certainly created a detour of the supply train granting me contentment.

I just couldn’t wrap my head around what purpose would be derived by continuing to tread the same path.

In the midst of this, I made a move.

I rented a duplex in Sacramento, California. It was the first living space I had acquired of my own for some time, and it had a lovely master bedroom with a bay window that looked out over a small forest.

It was on a frosty December afternoon that I sat on my bed with the first fruit of twilight creeping around me, and stared out that beautiful window at the view of the trees, when all of a sudden, a few snowflakes appeared in the air.

It was so beautiful.

The image is still etched in my mind, with the memory of a chill going down my spine–a sensation of contentment and awesome wonder about the beauty of life.

Although I was not surrounded by wealth nor was it the last time I would find myself in dire straits, I can always refer back to that incredible vision through that bay window … which kindly reassured me that I was making progress.

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