I'd almost say that *because* we're so electronically connected these days, getting any sort of snail mail (letter, postcard, card, etc) from a friend or family member is really special to me. There's so much more emotion in reading something written in someone's handwriting that could never be replicated with typefaces or computer programs.
Seeing my grandma hold my baby cousin (her grandaughter) for the first time is also something I'll always treasure.
Originally posted by DrDirtI agree with you all re the personal stuff. My wife and daughter are special as is what we do. I am not talking about that kind of item. We have hype telling us for weeks, if not months, in advance what is supposed to be special. Maybe another part of my query, is where is the mystery and anticipation that makes life (in a large sense)special.
This is a practice that has been around for centuries, dare I say milleniae, through the practice of carnival barkers, clergy, and other salesmen. The clergy is the worst, because they forcefeed 'sacred' along with 'special'. I've been told for years how special heaven will be, how sacred the church is, blah blah blah.
For me, when something wholly unforseen (but not necessarily catastrophic) happens, and grasps the awe and wonder of millions, that my friend is special.
Hold nothing sacred and you'll never be dissapointed. Especially not this statement.
Well, Special K has been special since I was a kid!
My oldest son is special to me. He is going to be 8 in Auugst and he has Autism. He has overcome so much and tries so hard that any positive steps he takes is a huge leap. When he was younger, he could never look me in the eye. Now that he is a little older, he can sustain eye contact for a while, or as long as he wants to. What is special is when he sits next to me on the couch to watch a show and he just looks up to me with no prompt and looks me right in the eyes and smiles and tells me he loves me. I am not a emotional person but the first time he did that I cried for 10 minutes. Even now, I get choked up every time he does it.
Now if you will excuse me, I have some dust in my eyes...
Well, that's just drunk talk! Sweet, beautiful drunk talk....
Kind of odd, but thrift stores. Or at least on the road to and from. Maybe it's just the wanderlust that gives me the idea ("hey, while I'm out here, I might as well...") but sitting back and taking in miles of asphalt... aaaaaahhhh.