Dreams gone, new ones beginning.

This weekend I spent it in the Science museum. The first time I’d been to the Museum since the pandemic.

Pre-pandemic, I would visit, and there was a massive ring, in the Energy Hall, it would say, things like “Happy birthday John!” and “”Will you marry me?” Well, this girl wanted to be proposed to in the Energy Hall of the Science Museum, using the Energy Ring. Now it is gone… Where do I want to be proposed to now?

Part of me doesn’t care. My last proposal in reality wasn’t half as special as I made it seem at the time. When you are 21 you really dress up the bare minimum. The ring was from a not great brand and I really did ask for the bare minimum. Because 2 weeks after the proposal we went to a party and a stone fell out of the ring. I was smart and told people it needed re-sizing (which it did) my ex was stupid and told people it was because the stone fell out… which made him look cheap, but he was too stupid to realise that he was making himself look bad.

But that was the only fantasy I had about proposal. It would be a very public display of adulation, and it would involve science. Another love of mine. However, now… I got nothing.

My main proposal fantasy now involves travel. Somewhere we go and it’s a sunrise… and he drops down to one knee, having poured Lambrini on my father’s grave and asked for my mothers permission.

I guess for something good to come the old needs to die. I expected to meet my soulmate soon after my father’s death. God wouldn’t take my protector and leave me stranded with no man to look after me would he? As it turns out, so far he has. I have no father and no husband. I have been to A&E twice this year and that fact is abundantly clear. The first time I had to put a friend as a next of Kin… that hurt.

So my proposal will no longer be of my imagination… it will be of his… Him being my future husband.

So he better have a wildly active imagination that involves dozens of roses on a mountainside at dawn in Africa.

My dream wedding plans have changed drastically too. I made a mental change that was crazy to me a few years ago… my second marriage will no longer involve my mother’s side of the family in England. The Harris’ will not be invited. This will keep numbers all the way down and then also mean I “match energy” of my mum’s side of the family. They don’t love and value me in the way I valued them. I was desperate for any family to love me, but now I’m okay with them not. Same thing with the Grosvenor’s. I’m cool knowing that they only love me when they need to buy items in England. Not when someone thinks of me and wants to reach out.

The lesson is, accept what is and move on.

Grace and Courage.

Annetta Mother Smith.