I think of my family. Of course I do.
Especially days like today, on Mother's Day . . . when I wish I could pick up the phone, and call my mom just to hear the sound of her voice again.
I try to remember the good moments (and we had *many*) - those happy, carefree days when my siblings and I rode our bikes for hours, roller-bladed, sang together, went on road trips, and cracked each other up.
But there are other moments. Those moments laced with harsh and almost oppressive expectations, too heavy to bear. My health broke. The last year in my father's house, the dawning realization in my heart, the stress and helplessness I felt - it was all like a bad dream. I needed to get away. So get away I did.
On days like today, I pull up a few of my favorite links. I read again the writings of strangers, who seem like friends to me, mostly because they've walked this road before me. These "friends" took all my messy emotions, combed the dark corners of my heart, and wove into words what I would have never brought myself to say.
They know me.
They've walked my journey.
And they've learned to move on.
So now you know. Where I've come from, and where I hope to be. :)
PS: Be sure to read all 7 posts in rebuilding after deconstruction - you'll be glad you did.
~ Mrs. Arcfide