You can call me Miss Ullynde. I am a 75 year old grandmother to Alphonse Theodore Bucklewheat. I love to read, take long barefoot walks by the ocean as I watch the sunrise. I have always written my thoughts down in journals. When I was younger, they were called diaries and each entry would begin in this way, Dear Diary... Being this old, you can imagine how many journals sit dusty in my attic.
Who am I? I have constantly asked myself this from when I was a young girl. It almost seems like I have been so many persons that are now in the new “me.” Yes, being old and gray and bent still makes a new person. I have befriended those girls, those women who were once me. The girl who played with butterflies, fought with dragons….the maiden who won and lost in love, the woman and mother who fiercely struggled, and the broken one who is loved dearly. I have befriended all those girls and women, the winners among them and those who have failed. There were the wise among them and fools. Sometimes vivacious, sometimes shy. I embrace all of them and now see them tenderly and kindly.
I think I have arrived to that which is called the grace of God.
Who am I? I have constantly asked myself this from when I was a young girl. It almost seems like I have been so many persons that are now in the new “me.” Yes, being old and gray and bent still makes a new person. I have befriended those girls, those women who were once me. The girl who played with butterflies, fought with dragons….the maiden who won and lost in love, the woman and mother who fiercely struggled, and the broken one who is loved dearly. I have befriended all those girls and women, the winners among them and those who have failed. There were the wise among them and fools. Sometimes vivacious, sometimes shy. I embrace all of them and now see them tenderly and kindly.
I think I have arrived to that which is called the grace of God.
