An observation while folding clean clothes out of the dryer made me realize we honor and remember our loved ones in all kinds of ways. Which put a smile on my face. I thought about this as I carefully lined up the toes of the socks and smoothed them to the heel and then stretched them at the top so the two socks fit together neatly matching in size. Then I folded my towels the long way folding a third to the middle and then folded them over. It made me think of my Mother and the many times I watched her folding clothes this way without it really registering.
Not that I iron that much - horrors! Thank goodness for permanent press and learning to remove things from the dryer when they are still damp. However on the infrequent times I do iron a shirt I still follow the same pattern: front side of collar, back yoke, front sides, the rest of the back, sleeves and finally the collar again. I don't know if Mom did it that way for a reason, but for me I know which parts I've ironed which is sometimes difficult to tell because of the whole permanent press thing mentioned earlier.
Oh and of course all those "Momisms" that come out of my mouth and I wonder where the heck did that come from? Though I admit with some people and in some instances I will say my Mother always said (even if it's my own personal observation) to gain instant credibility due to respect for those who came before.
So if you subscribe to the theory that our departed loved ones are with us when we think of them, then Mom sorry it's usually housework. Though when I squeeze my little grandson and make him giggle, I know Mom's right there showing me how to love.
Friday, April 10, 2015
Sunday, March 22, 2015
RAINBOWS ON MY MICROWAVE
I call this season "Sprinter". Not quite winter and not quite all the way into Spring, regardless of what the calendar says and all that equinox business. You know it's Sprinter from the following observations:
1) Robins fighting/mating or just P.O.'d over the fact that they followed the calendar instead of the temperature and are fighting over the few worms (no doubt lethargic from their long winter's nap) that have managed to drag their squishy heads above the suddenly saturated underground.
2) Snowsnorts - the leftover pieces of incredibly black snow that cling precariously to the sides of driveways, large rocks and extremely shady places. They are the sole survivors from the aggressive tactics of the "snow removers" who attack after each and every snowfall with plows, shovels and copious scatterings of rock salt. It is a semi-cannibalistic survival however, as the final snowsnorts rely on the weight and coverage of their unfortunate brethren who arrived last only to provide a haven and insulation to those who landed earlier. They totally suck the frigid aspects of those come-latelys as long as possible until an onslaught of above freezing days pulls the last bit of ice from their frigid veins.
3) The arrival of shorts on, mostly adolescent Michiganders, when the first sprinter day above freezing raises it's promising head. There is something apparently shameful about actually wearing clothing and outer garments designed to keep their wearer warm one MINUTE after the temp goes into the 30's. These creatures can also be seen into December still sporting minimal clothing and also apparently owning no coats. Though I do find it amusing on those really cold mornings, say 20 below, their Mommies and Daddies wait at the bus stop with them ensconced in a nice warm car until the bus show up. They then spring forth absolutely dressed for summer which of course shows their macho toughness as they face the weather for a record 10.3 seconds to the bus and into the school.
4) Lines at the car wash suddenly materialize followed by the amusing and futile drive home trying to avoid the inevitable Sprinter puddles (and left-over snowsnorts) in the road.
5) The absolute shock when, of course, the lingering fingers of winter drop six inches on the newly warmed grass and pavement on April 10. The cursing that ensues generally helps melt the snow in record time and we and Mother Nature all have a good laugh about it.
However, you know the back of winter has been broken, Sprinter truly ends and authentic Spring begins when one day you see a fuzzy, greenish haze settling over the trees. It is so fragile and you convince yourself it is an illusion. But as the weeks progress the haze turns into beautiful, strong green leaves heralding true Spring.
Finally before it exits"Sprinter" also shows me a vision that only occurs at this time of year when the trees are still wearing their bare winter limbs yet the sun shines brightly all day. The rainbow catcher that my Mother gave me many years ago catches the light and transforms my kitchen into a kaleidoscope of colors that dance across my kitchen. And she would have loved watching my grandson giggle as he darts around the room trying to catch the rainbows on my microwave....
1) Robins fighting/mating or just P.O.'d over the fact that they followed the calendar instead of the temperature and are fighting over the few worms (no doubt lethargic from their long winter's nap) that have managed to drag their squishy heads above the suddenly saturated underground.
2) Snowsnorts - the leftover pieces of incredibly black snow that cling precariously to the sides of driveways, large rocks and extremely shady places. They are the sole survivors from the aggressive tactics of the "snow removers" who attack after each and every snowfall with plows, shovels and copious scatterings of rock salt. It is a semi-cannibalistic survival however, as the final snowsnorts rely on the weight and coverage of their unfortunate brethren who arrived last only to provide a haven and insulation to those who landed earlier. They totally suck the frigid aspects of those come-latelys as long as possible until an onslaught of above freezing days pulls the last bit of ice from their frigid veins.
3) The arrival of shorts on, mostly adolescent Michiganders, when the first sprinter day above freezing raises it's promising head. There is something apparently shameful about actually wearing clothing and outer garments designed to keep their wearer warm one MINUTE after the temp goes into the 30's. These creatures can also be seen into December still sporting minimal clothing and also apparently owning no coats. Though I do find it amusing on those really cold mornings, say 20 below, their Mommies and Daddies wait at the bus stop with them ensconced in a nice warm car until the bus show up. They then spring forth absolutely dressed for summer which of course shows their macho toughness as they face the weather for a record 10.3 seconds to the bus and into the school.
4) Lines at the car wash suddenly materialize followed by the amusing and futile drive home trying to avoid the inevitable Sprinter puddles (and left-over snowsnorts) in the road.
5) The absolute shock when, of course, the lingering fingers of winter drop six inches on the newly warmed grass and pavement on April 10. The cursing that ensues generally helps melt the snow in record time and we and Mother Nature all have a good laugh about it.
However, you know the back of winter has been broken, Sprinter truly ends and authentic Spring begins when one day you see a fuzzy, greenish haze settling over the trees. It is so fragile and you convince yourself it is an illusion. But as the weeks progress the haze turns into beautiful, strong green leaves heralding true Spring.
Finally before it exits"Sprinter" also shows me a vision that only occurs at this time of year when the trees are still wearing their bare winter limbs yet the sun shines brightly all day. The rainbow catcher that my Mother gave me many years ago catches the light and transforms my kitchen into a kaleidoscope of colors that dance across my kitchen. And she would have loved watching my grandson giggle as he darts around the room trying to catch the rainbows on my microwave....
Thursday, March 12, 2015
Driving While Black
As I watch the US explode over race issues and the stupidity and prejudice of some people overwhelming the media, I am reminded of a story from a former supervisor.She is a black woman - highly educated, professionally regarded and a high-ranking manager. We are both friends and colleagues and no topic is off-limits with us from grandchildren to Afghanistan to race relations. But this is her story and I ask only that you reflect on the simplicity of it and the implications it holds for our nation. There is a difference in treatment and it impacts all of us. Don't think it just happens over there - wherever "there" is.
She was chuckling about trying to get car repairs done when working 50 hour weeks, coordinating church and youth activities with her husband and learning how to be a new grandmother and help to her daughter and son-in-law. She had to actually schedule an appointment to get her headlight lamp fixed as her free time is limited. Before that could occur, however, she was driving down a main highway on her way home from work - in full daylight. She was thoughtfully stopped by a police officer, who noticed her front headlight was out, even though lights were not called for in daylight. He approached her on the "passenger" side of the car motioning her to roll down her window with his right hand on his holster. Really? She was professionally dressed, fully cooperative and hardly a threat to the police officer. A simple story with no lasting repercussions, no fine, no jail, except to her sense of self and safety.
You have to ask yourself - is this how a police officer ever approached you on a simple traffic stop?
She was chuckling about trying to get car repairs done when working 50 hour weeks, coordinating church and youth activities with her husband and learning how to be a new grandmother and help to her daughter and son-in-law. She had to actually schedule an appointment to get her headlight lamp fixed as her free time is limited. Before that could occur, however, she was driving down a main highway on her way home from work - in full daylight. She was thoughtfully stopped by a police officer, who noticed her front headlight was out, even though lights were not called for in daylight. He approached her on the "passenger" side of the car motioning her to roll down her window with his right hand on his holster. Really? She was professionally dressed, fully cooperative and hardly a threat to the police officer. A simple story with no lasting repercussions, no fine, no jail, except to her sense of self and safety.
You have to ask yourself - is this how a police officer ever approached you on a simple traffic stop?
Monday, March 2, 2015
MCDONALDS IS FOR EVERYONE
I took my little grandson to McDonald's for supper the other day. Yes I know, horrible Nana, feeding him that nasty stuff made up to look like real food in appealing colors and shapes. My saving grace however is he never eats that much of anything-it's more to address his instantaneous need for something to fill his tiny little belly after a hard day at the salt mines of daycare.
We call it "his work". He has a long day of greeting staff, being helpful with minor disputes, leading or directing the other children in some type of rebellious act or hazardous adventure before the caretakers catch on and spoil the fun, By evening he is ready for some serious chill time and a "snack". Consequently I am convinced he will not eat enough of that McD's to actually harm his growing body.
At any rate he is meticulous at carefully pouring his fries into the other side of the nuggets box. Why, even his Mother does not know, but he is neat about it. He eats the equivalent of one quarter of one tiny nugget and 3 french fries and then heads to the play area. I don't know why I bother to bring the left-over remnants home. I am the shoeless grandparent who hovers anxiously in the background as he climbs on anything he can in the play area hoping to avert disaster or having to make that phone call to the parents from the local urgent care. All the while trying not to stifle his natural curiosity and acrobatic attempts on the equipment. Papa keeps his shoes on as Joe has a tendency to make a break for the dining room when he gets bored.
Well on this episode, Joe took off running and was around the tables and up to the counter before Papa got moving to catch him. He found Joe calmly ordering a "cupcake" (muffin) when they asked him what he wanted. I will always wonder if they would have filled his request to have it "his way" without money but now I will never know. Just another day in the life of an almost 3 year old as you know "you gotta love the baby"!
We call it "his work". He has a long day of greeting staff, being helpful with minor disputes, leading or directing the other children in some type of rebellious act or hazardous adventure before the caretakers catch on and spoil the fun, By evening he is ready for some serious chill time and a "snack". Consequently I am convinced he will not eat enough of that McD's to actually harm his growing body.
At any rate he is meticulous at carefully pouring his fries into the other side of the nuggets box. Why, even his Mother does not know, but he is neat about it. He eats the equivalent of one quarter of one tiny nugget and 3 french fries and then heads to the play area. I don't know why I bother to bring the left-over remnants home. I am the shoeless grandparent who hovers anxiously in the background as he climbs on anything he can in the play area hoping to avert disaster or having to make that phone call to the parents from the local urgent care. All the while trying not to stifle his natural curiosity and acrobatic attempts on the equipment. Papa keeps his shoes on as Joe has a tendency to make a break for the dining room when he gets bored.
Well on this episode, Joe took off running and was around the tables and up to the counter before Papa got moving to catch him. He found Joe calmly ordering a "cupcake" (muffin) when they asked him what he wanted. I will always wonder if they would have filled his request to have it "his way" without money but now I will never know. Just another day in the life of an almost 3 year old as you know "you gotta love the baby"!
Thursday, February 26, 2015
CLOTHING RANT
I heard an interesting statistic today. Supposedly 64% of American women fit the plus-size dimensions as determined by the "fashion industry". The same industry that designs 90% of their clothing line to fit the 8-10 year old body that apparently they believe is the norm or perhaps what we should strive to emulate. Even more disturbing is their definition that plus-size starts at size 14. I would daresay that if I checked any "normal" American woman's closets, including mine, I would find clothing from size 8 to size 14 or higher. It depends on the designer. That is why when many of us go shopping it does take several hours as we must try on multiple clothing items (all claiming to be the same thing of course) to find one that actually fits!
If you linger near the very limited number of dressing rooms available (what's up with that by the way, as no one can buy off the rack without trying it on) you will no doubt hear the sounds of grunting, sharply drawn in breath and quiet,yet fluent, cursing as we try to fit our very real bodies into very poorly designed clothing. My assumption is that the designers and store buyers must believe that little girls have all the money. NEWS FLASH-we mature women have the money, the need and the desire to purchase well-made and flattering clothing. Don't even let me get started on boots and shoes. As we mature, our feet become wider yet I defy anyone to find a comfortable, flattering shoe in a wide size and yet again, we are the ones with the money!
Why do women put up with this? Men buy a pair of pants by waist and length and it doesn't change based on a designer's whim of what they think a man should wear. Same with jackets and shirts-neck and length and a little more generous tailoring where needed. My theory is that we don't complain and demand the industry listen to what we want. Instead women are allowing themselves to be brain-washed into believing they must look a certain way or be a certain size to be acceptable. To that I politely say bushwah (thought really it's spelled bullshit)! I complain every time, but then I am known for my impatience with incompetence and bad service. However the clerks, store managers and buyers do not really care as we continue to buy this crap. Money talks and maybe we don't realize how much power we actually have.
We all need to step up and support our normal sized sisters and demand better choices. We need to celebrate we are built like women and not 10 years old children who dress way too provocatively by the way. We need to stop cramming our beautiful curves and slightly wider feet into things that do not fit and quit being so damn polite about it. Support designers that "get it" and design for all shapes and sizes. Get noisy ladies-change doesn't happen in silent acceptance-you just get more of the same.
If you linger near the very limited number of dressing rooms available (what's up with that by the way, as no one can buy off the rack without trying it on) you will no doubt hear the sounds of grunting, sharply drawn in breath and quiet,yet fluent, cursing as we try to fit our very real bodies into very poorly designed clothing. My assumption is that the designers and store buyers must believe that little girls have all the money. NEWS FLASH-we mature women have the money, the need and the desire to purchase well-made and flattering clothing. Don't even let me get started on boots and shoes. As we mature, our feet become wider yet I defy anyone to find a comfortable, flattering shoe in a wide size and yet again, we are the ones with the money!
Why do women put up with this? Men buy a pair of pants by waist and length and it doesn't change based on a designer's whim of what they think a man should wear. Same with jackets and shirts-neck and length and a little more generous tailoring where needed. My theory is that we don't complain and demand the industry listen to what we want. Instead women are allowing themselves to be brain-washed into believing they must look a certain way or be a certain size to be acceptable. To that I politely say bushwah (thought really it's spelled bullshit)! I complain every time, but then I am known for my impatience with incompetence and bad service. However the clerks, store managers and buyers do not really care as we continue to buy this crap. Money talks and maybe we don't realize how much power we actually have.
We all need to step up and support our normal sized sisters and demand better choices. We need to celebrate we are built like women and not 10 years old children who dress way too provocatively by the way. We need to stop cramming our beautiful curves and slightly wider feet into things that do not fit and quit being so damn polite about it. Support designers that "get it" and design for all shapes and sizes. Get noisy ladies-change doesn't happen in silent acceptance-you just get more of the same.
Wednesday, February 4, 2015
LIFE LESSONS FROM TODDLERS
Recent visits from my darling little grandson have forced moments of bribery, err negotiation, as he "wants what he wants when he wants it" and meltdowns are messy and embarrassing when they occur in public. It prompts me to ponder that dealing with a 2 1/2 year old is similar to personal interactions with people of all ages. Or perhaps a lifetime of experience in personal encounters has allowed a certain wisdom when applied to a head-strong toddler. I have always had a problem with the word "compromise" as it means one or both have given up something in order to reach agreement.
Human interactions, contract negotiations, complaint resolution, ordering a hamburger with no onion all rely on a certain amount of problem resolution. We seem to be by nature, or nurture, under the impression that we must win or at least best the other person no matter how insignificant the encounter. It takes maturity to realize both can end up winning yet it is a concept that is not universally acceptable. Why is that? When raising children or grandchildren our goal is to raise happy, confident, honest little people who understand they are loved and are able to love others. And of course, we also need to understand when we are being bullied and not allow others to affect our own feelings of worthiness.
When contemplating any negotiation what we think we must have is really more an issue of want rather than need, and to be honest, in most cases we can be happy with a lot less than originally believed. To inspire that positive negotiation in others requires active listening - Open ears, Close mouth. I was "schooled" in the practice of the active listening technique over many years of investigating business and safety failures in order to provide a plan of action, solution or preventive measures. Amazing what people reveal about themselves and situations when you just wait and are legitimately interested in what they say. I confess I also perfected the ability to swallow a yawn without the other person ever knowing. Ok, everything is not fascinating but one does owe respect.
Have you ever noticed how a sales person will get a little personal (to a point) when trying to close the sale? We would much rather buy from a "friend" even a temporary one. This concept works whether you are selling "fries with that burger" or the extra accessories on your new car. Of course that is also the opportunity for the buyer to obtain a few perks -- a lower price, more free add-ons or services. Also the higher priced the item, the more the sales person is willing to negotiate. Both buyer and seller are happy. Isn't that a much better way to feel after your interactions?
As for my beloved grandson, I normally give in to his demands though I do employ redirection and substitution whenever possible. That way neither one of us has a tantrum...
Human interactions, contract negotiations, complaint resolution, ordering a hamburger with no onion all rely on a certain amount of problem resolution. We seem to be by nature, or nurture, under the impression that we must win or at least best the other person no matter how insignificant the encounter. It takes maturity to realize both can end up winning yet it is a concept that is not universally acceptable. Why is that? When raising children or grandchildren our goal is to raise happy, confident, honest little people who understand they are loved and are able to love others. And of course, we also need to understand when we are being bullied and not allow others to affect our own feelings of worthiness.
When contemplating any negotiation what we think we must have is really more an issue of want rather than need, and to be honest, in most cases we can be happy with a lot less than originally believed. To inspire that positive negotiation in others requires active listening - Open ears, Close mouth. I was "schooled" in the practice of the active listening technique over many years of investigating business and safety failures in order to provide a plan of action, solution or preventive measures. Amazing what people reveal about themselves and situations when you just wait and are legitimately interested in what they say. I confess I also perfected the ability to swallow a yawn without the other person ever knowing. Ok, everything is not fascinating but one does owe respect.
Have you ever noticed how a sales person will get a little personal (to a point) when trying to close the sale? We would much rather buy from a "friend" even a temporary one. This concept works whether you are selling "fries with that burger" or the extra accessories on your new car. Of course that is also the opportunity for the buyer to obtain a few perks -- a lower price, more free add-ons or services. Also the higher priced the item, the more the sales person is willing to negotiate. Both buyer and seller are happy. Isn't that a much better way to feel after your interactions?
As for my beloved grandson, I normally give in to his demands though I do employ redirection and substitution whenever possible. That way neither one of us has a tantrum...
Monday, January 26, 2015
STRICTLY RANDOM
Not sure if I heard it right, but had this brain spark while half-listening to a commercial for a cold remedy. Did the announcer really say "coughsequences" or "consequences" of not taking the medication. If I heard it wrong and my own warped brain picked it up as the former, then how witty am I? Remember your saw the birth of the new word here first.
Stopped at a restaurant for breakfast that I have patronized for several years on Saturdays before grocery shopping. I always have the same wait-person and do not even have to order as my coffee, water and ham and cheese omelet (hold the taters) arrives shortly after my sliding into the booth. Going on a Monday, however changes things. My favorite wait person was not working today and I had the monumental challenge of dealing with a previously foreign menu and remembering what "my usual" would be. I said "well things change but the jelly never does". This is in reference to the fact that every restaurant orders from the same vendor supplying grape, strawberry, mixed fruit and orange marmalade but NEVER NEVER cherry-even in Traverse City. What is up with that? And really who eats marmalade (the chick jelly - Ma me laid) complete with orange peel unless a person is suffering from scurvy. Nothing like a chunk of chew with your favorite citrus as of course people eat oranges like apples chomping down on the skin as part of their enjoyable treat. I don't think so!
Stopped at a restaurant for breakfast that I have patronized for several years on Saturdays before grocery shopping. I always have the same wait-person and do not even have to order as my coffee, water and ham and cheese omelet (hold the taters) arrives shortly after my sliding into the booth. Going on a Monday, however changes things. My favorite wait person was not working today and I had the monumental challenge of dealing with a previously foreign menu and remembering what "my usual" would be. I said "well things change but the jelly never does". This is in reference to the fact that every restaurant orders from the same vendor supplying grape, strawberry, mixed fruit and orange marmalade but NEVER NEVER cherry-even in Traverse City. What is up with that? And really who eats marmalade (the chick jelly - Ma me laid) complete with orange peel unless a person is suffering from scurvy. Nothing like a chunk of chew with your favorite citrus as of course people eat oranges like apples chomping down on the skin as part of their enjoyable treat. I don't think so!
Sunday, January 25, 2015
THIRD QUARTER
When they asked what I wanted I said a really good pen- well guess what? I got it, two actually, and a couple of journals to fill. A sign? A fulfillment? A prophesy to be fulfilled? Well have paper, will write. The weirdest, but perhaps flattering theme is everyone keeps asking what are you going to do? Apparently I am too young (looking) and vibrant to just veg. The sin is I have no plan-it will evolve I'm sure. And by the way, those are really fine pens. Comfortable to the hand and smooth rolling writing surfaces that pull thoughts and stories out all by themselves. Perhaps magic is embedded in gifts given from the heart of true friends.
First few days of the final third of life. Ooh that sounded creepy. Let me explain - lst third of life culminating in my daughter; 2nd third the incredible body of work by working incredibly hard "for someone else" though I am proud of that work. Now a third left to do something else, lots of something else's according to things that have opened up. Gosh Mrs. Kelley would be appalled at my license to be grammatically and spelling-incorrect, but I'll just call it EG (eccentric grammar). I now am the grammar police of my crimes and I give myself a pass. Also using ink in a hand-written journal keeps one humble and unexpectedly honest as you can't really go back and edit when you put it in writing without causing a lot of speculation of why is that crossed-out, scribbled or rewritten? It is obvious when one writes by hand. The flow of pen over paper may be comforting and sensuous but obvious when you err. You have no idea when it is keyed in and printed. TIP: If it seems as if my spelling has gone to proverbial "crap" that is because I'm excited and trying to type faster than the keyboard can accommodate.
On commercials- oh don't get me started. I have seen this one about 100 times. Question: If I was suffering from long-term bi-polar depression (well at least half the time if I understand "bi") would I be cognizant enough to know I needed it and beseech my doctor for said drug? A drug that I will self-prescribe because the television or the internet told me so? If I know it than maybe I don't suffer the malady or on the upside I think I'm just fine which would not prompt me to ask for it. Thank goodness for advertising that helps me not only diagnose, but treat and apparently, cure all my illnesses. Gosh many times I don't even realize I have the illness until a commercial or lawyer advertisement tells me what to take or who to sue. Only in America. Of course, we are one week away from the mother lode of all commercialdom - the SUPER BOWL! And I really don't think I am the only one who hits the bathroom during the game so I don't miss any commercials.
First few days of the final third of life. Ooh that sounded creepy. Let me explain - lst third of life culminating in my daughter; 2nd third the incredible body of work by working incredibly hard "for someone else" though I am proud of that work. Now a third left to do something else, lots of something else's according to things that have opened up. Gosh Mrs. Kelley would be appalled at my license to be grammatically and spelling-incorrect, but I'll just call it EG (eccentric grammar). I now am the grammar police of my crimes and I give myself a pass. Also using ink in a hand-written journal keeps one humble and unexpectedly honest as you can't really go back and edit when you put it in writing without causing a lot of speculation of why is that crossed-out, scribbled or rewritten? It is obvious when one writes by hand. The flow of pen over paper may be comforting and sensuous but obvious when you err. You have no idea when it is keyed in and printed. TIP: If it seems as if my spelling has gone to proverbial "crap" that is because I'm excited and trying to type faster than the keyboard can accommodate.
On commercials- oh don't get me started. I have seen this one about 100 times. Question: If I was suffering from long-term bi-polar depression (well at least half the time if I understand "bi") would I be cognizant enough to know I needed it and beseech my doctor for said drug? A drug that I will self-prescribe because the television or the internet told me so? If I know it than maybe I don't suffer the malady or on the upside I think I'm just fine which would not prompt me to ask for it. Thank goodness for advertising that helps me not only diagnose, but treat and apparently, cure all my illnesses. Gosh many times I don't even realize I have the illness until a commercial or lawyer advertisement tells me what to take or who to sue. Only in America. Of course, we are one week away from the mother lode of all commercialdom - the SUPER BOWL! And I really don't think I am the only one who hits the bathroom during the game so I don't miss any commercials.
Tuesday, January 20, 2015
Love Explained
Love is standing in place -- not about winning and losing; not about getting one up on one another; making a better deal; holding one another hostage to their own tender feelings to make them feel week and defeated. Love means accepting who they are without thoughts of or need for changing them. Equals no matter what because flaws do not exist where one has pure love. Not seeing any negative but only delight whether things change or not. If you cannot be unselfish, undemanding or not delighted in what you have found, it is not love. Love is not a competition and one may not know to love like that but we all need to try. When you feel ready to take on the world but they do not recognize the beauty and quality of your love it really doesn't matter. If you never regret the love that you have given or shared, you have found true love.
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