Writers aren't exactly people, they're a lot of people trying to be one person. F.Scott Fitzgerald

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

October,memories and lost dreams.

I love the month of October. When I lived on our farm,it was my favorite time of the year.The hard work with the cattle was over,the crops were harvested,cotton picked and everything was ready for the winter.Northeast Louisiana winters can be cold and damp.There were still chores to be dine,cattle to be fed and looked after and hours of riding fences. It was hard work and I loved it all.My stepfather and I had my future planned.After high school I would attend,LSU   to become a large animal vet.I had a coveted scholarship already promised.
        Then I met  a gorgeous man.A freshman in college and a dead ringer for Elvis Presley. I was SMITTEN with a capitol S Of course being sixteen and in love for the first time,I only had thoughts of him. He hated the farm.he wanted a pretty girl for a wife.unfortunately I wasn't a social butterfly and he loved people and partying.I was too young and naive,knew nothing about scrimping and saving.Hell,my stepfather was a self made millionaire during a time when a million dollars was actually a fortune.
        I had the best of everything.     Clothes,money to spend,a gorgeous ranch house,shopping trips with what seemed at the time, unlimited spending and a devoted stepfather who doted on me.Twice a year we spent a weekend in New Orleans where he took me and my mother shopping at the best stores and dined at the best places. He was proud of me. I was the daughter he had always wanted.I was the wrong wife for Richard.He should have picked a society girl and I wish I had enough sense to realize I could not be what he wanted.In the end we were both miserable. In hind sight, I think I lost the most.I still mourn the loss of the farm and realize it was my own fault. It's a shame we can't have a do over.I'd be first in line.

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