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A fresh Eye

Once on the school bus I glanced up at the drivers rear view mirror.  For a split second I observed the stranger in view as a detached outsider.  The perspective was shattered on realizing that I was looking at myself.  I tried to get back to where my mind was in that moment, but it was gone.  I would so love to view myself as an outsider with a completely fresh, untarnished eye.

In a way I understand why some people (including my past self) move between relationships or brief romantic liaisons with ease.  The thrill of discovering another in all the firsts is thrilling.  The first time fingers touch, the first kiss, the first time you inhale the new scent of another person, it’s a wonderful adventure.

I love my husband, I want to stay with him forever.  I do not entertain fantasies about any exploration outside my marriage (unless David Bowie or that cute guy from ‘Black Books’ handed themselves to me on a golden platter).  What would be amazing would be to magically erase all images and memory and view Cliff with a fresh eye.  To relive the first impressions, the first encounters.  Imagine the new life it would breath into relationships if you could do that.

I would love to see my children as an outsider.  Recreate that first time I held them in my arms.  See them as others see them.  A mothers eye is so clouded with emotion and love, a fresh perspective would be enchanting and enlightening.

Familiarity does not necessarily breed contempt, more often it breeds comfort.  A fresh eye would simply see so much more,  appreciate so much more.

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