I have found that most writings are written at times of either great sorrow or joy. This was written some time ago when I was longing for the things that I thought were missing from my life, but I have since learned that these things although are beautiful are not essential to make one happy. The love of wonderful people around you, purpose to one's life and peace of mind are primary.

 Longing

I long to do one simple but impossible task, and that is to once again stand on my own two feet.

How wonderful it would be to again walk totally alone barefoot along the water's edge during a summer sunset, to feel the gritty sand between my toes and the warming waters lapping around my ankles.

I have so longed to step onto a dance floor, to feel my filmy gown flowing about me just with the simplicity of my own movement disturbing the air around me. To be able to dance slowly in the arms of the man I love and to feel every part of his body touching mine.

Often I have dreamed of seeing myself standing high on a mountaintop overlooking the sea. I am clothed in nothing but a pure white gown, which the wind is blowing around me; my hair is being tousled about my face. Arms are outstretched and seemingly to be pointing upwards towards the heavens. I can feel a sense of power and exhilaration welling deep inside.

What would it be like I wonder, to enter a room, a restaurant or a theatre without a fuss being made, such as, are the seating arrangements correct, and is the table not to high? Can I eat my meal without the waiter continually bumping into the jutting out handles of my wheelchair causing me to drop my fork loudly onto my plate, or worse, onto my lap. Are the public conveniences accessible so that I will not cause a disturbance or embarrassment when having to visit them?

I am longing to show affection without restriction, to be able to make the first move without the awkwardness of a clumsy attempt that lack of movement can create. This can cause a total lack of spontaneity from occurring, very often leading to a sense of embarrassment for both parties.

The lack of movement also means that you never seem to be able to reach your designed destination with any speed, so consequently you have an extreme desire to fulfill that need. When driving my car, I must admit that I sometimes drove like a woman possessed. The car stereo blasting with the latest fast and furious music, the car windows wound down and the wind blowing my hair wildly as I drove. the sense of total freedom could not be denied.

A friend who understood my passion for speed owned a speedboat and would often take me out in it. It was most beautiful when the summer sun was setting and the water was calm and glistening with the last rays of sunlight. He would drive so fast that it was all I could do to hold on, the breeze on my face making me catch my breath. I would almost cry with that extraordinary feeling of freedom, a freedom that was so yearned for that you would be prepared to take it to its limits, if only you knew what those limits were.

This next little  story is more light hearted. See if you can guess the twist at the end.

The Commitment

My heart was in my mouth and my stomach was fluttering with what seemed like a million or two butterflies within, because at last there she was coming up my pathway to my front door. I peered expectantly out the window to get a better look at her. What did she look like I wondered.

I had thought about this day for weeks, making quite sure that I had considered the situation through well, trying not to make a too hasty decision, was there room, and enough time in my life to devote to another added responsibility. Could I cope with the obvious changes that would occur? After all this was going to be a commitment for life.

I was however fairly confident. I had prepared well. The room was arranged, her favourite foods were in readiness and I had made sure that she had many things in which to keep her occupied and amused.

The doorbell finally rang after what seemed like an eternity. I eagerly answered the door, my eyes focusing only on a small bundle being held by a woman that I had never met but had spent many a long distance telephone call with over the many weeks that it had taken to come to this point.

They came in and sat down. I immediately asked to hold her. She was so lovely and very tiny with big beautiful brown eyes and golden hair. I felt her tremble under the blanket that was surrounding her.

I was worried that she seemed too timid. It would take time I thought for us to get to know one another, after all, she was only five months old and had been used to being cared for by someone other than myself, and now she was leaving all her other brothers and sisters for the first time.

We spent a long time just cuddling and I talked gently to her and whispered in her ear trying to comfort and reassure her that I was not going to harm her.

It was suddenly time for us to be alone and to begin our new life together. We waved to the woman who kindly wished us luck as she climbed into her car and then drove away. This was it, for the better or worse, only time would tell.

We have spent many months together and she is growing like the proverbial weed. We are getting along well and she has settled in perfectly, and for the most part she is very well behaved.

My life and my home will never again be quite the same, but I am so happy that at last we are a family, just the two of us, me and my most beautiful little Chihuahua pup named "Pebbles"

    " Please click the paw print

 to meet Pebbles"

The following story is a little more mystical. You will understand as you read on.

A Dream Come True

There it was, totally unexpected, but nevertheless it was there. I was staring at it, my dream. It was the dream that had been haunting me all my life.

What had compelled me to look to my right into a gallery window as I ambled down a city street? What you ask? A painting, a beautiful painting, set alone with only a cascade of blue velvet draped seductively around it, maybe representing the sky, or the blue of the deepest of blue seas, or perhaps both.

The painting was of a woman standing alone high on a mountain top, overlooking the raging seas below, the wind at her back billowing her pure white gown out beyond the craggy edge of the mountain, looking very much like an old galleon in full sail. Her arms are outstretched, and raised to the heavens as if surrendering herself to the elements that lay before her.

The woman portrayed here was not me and yet she was me. I could not believe that the same vision that I had seen in my dream all these years was indeed a reality painted on a canvas for all to see.

I do not suppose that I will ever understand the real significance of the dream, as there is no beginning nor end to the vision, just me, the mountain, the sea and sky, and an overwhelming feeling of power within.

I know however that someone somewhere has been inspired by a similar vision, or perhaps had actually experienced it and recorded it here in the form of a painting, perhaps for me to find.

You may be wondering what happened to the painting that had caused my heart to skip such a beat. It is proudly hanging with an almost reverence over my bed, and ever since fate sent me along that city street to where that painting lay in wait, my dream has not returned.

   Music: 'The Impossible Dream'