I laughed as I thought back and about some of my customers. This one couple that stopped by the booth. The gentleman said" I would never buy off you , do you know why?' "He said you talk to fast" at that moment his wife was taking money out of her bag to pay me." He said "what are you doing ?" "She said I am buying it off her!" It is funny the moments that are locked in your memory. There are actually so many and some bring a smile to my face. I owe quick talking to a childhood experience. I couldn't have been more than 8 or 9 yrs old. I would go downtown shopping with my mother and grandmother. In Murphy's five and ten, now that is dating myself, there was a man on a pedestal and a crowd of women around him. He was a knife salesman I dont know what his gimmick was but he talked fast and sold knives. From that moment on I knew if you were going to sale you have a short window of opportunity to say as much as possible. So indeed talk fast.
I was at a convention and one woman couldn't decide on which poems she wanted. She was torn between " Normal and My Promise." She asked if I would read them out loud as I read them I choked up on my own words and she said I'll take them both. I realized at that moment that whether I was making skin care for women or writing that they weren't just getting a product they were getting a part of me. Reading the poetry brought the words to life almost as if inserting a part of my soul.
My favorite customer is an older woman who collected my poetry. Her first poem was " the winter of my life" I am always intrigued by how people interpret words and how my winter became someone else's. She said every morning I wake up and I read your words... I thought wow! that is powerful.
That poem continued to sale and well I guess everyone has at least one " winter of my life"
The Winter Of My Life
The key to unlocking what the darkness bring,
is to release the memories trapped inside of me.
I thought it was the season that froze me in my tracks
as I was continuously afraid of looking back. Lost
amongst the thicket and caught up in the freeze,
seized by the moment I had fallen to my knees.
I begged the winter to be kind and release me
from the past, as the chill was gaining very fast.
The season of winter whispered in my ear, "its
not of nature that sent such despair and causing
you to feel such relentless fear. The winter that
you feel that pierces like a knife , it belongs to
winter, the winter of your life."
No doubt I have never been a fan of the winter season but I have begun to notice on the coldest and darkest day behind the clouds of gray the sky is still blue. At the time I wrote the " winter of my life" changes took hold and I saw the world not as our memories would have us see but in a more positive light. Everyone and everything that happens is for a reason. The people who come into our lives and the experiences.
My winters are not so desperate sounding as in the poem. The magic that lifts the spirit is found in accepting love into your heart and expressing it through simple moments and with smiles and laughter. The past has no power. There are many doorways throughout life ... and life is short. I am happy that when I knocked at the door you answered or is that when you knocked at the door, I answered?
