Tiny Band-Aids

 They say that when you have a child, 

your heart will forever walk outside of your body. 

And it does. 

My heart has been broken so many times

that it has become numb to certain things and people.

But never to my child. 

My heart has lost its wonder and belief. 

But hers hasn't.

It has tiny little band-aids from little heartbreaks

yet it still emits wonder and enormous love. 

Until yesterday.

 Now among those tiny band-aids, there is a large one. 

One that shouldn't be there 

because a grown-up made a decision 

that broke a very big piece. 

Seeing that big heartbreak wounded my heart 

in a way that I'd never known. 

See, broken heart pieces are part of life.

But hers has just begun.

Life scatters broken heart pieces freely, 

yet I know she will heal.

As for me, having to watch it 

through my own heart as well as hers

 is something a thousand tiny band-aids 

will never be able to heal. 

When Is It Okay To Be Me?

If you ask me how many lives I've lived I couldn't exactly tell you. There are so many.
I've lived the childhood of great adventure.
And the one of immense hurt.
I have been a teenager and done all of those teenage things.
Yet I grew up rather quickly. Maybe I was always older...
My early twenties presented me with death and love.
Both brought their own lessons.
I learned that I could feel more deeply and believe what my heart lead to
I also learned that I could lose what I loved the most in the world
And to not take things for granted.
My thirties brought children and true love was discovered.
Nothing ever rocked my world stronger than the two little girls God put me in charge of...
Yet nothing could ever have prepared me for the heartache it takes to mother those two.
I love them. I dislike them. I am not sure I am doing things right. Yet I know I will not stop being their mom. That is my purpose in life.
Now into my forties I wonder - my kids are turning out okay. They have issues and please school me on any who do not. I have issues and I work them out with several outlets of help because...motheringisfuckinghard.
I have also discovered that I just might want a change of life. You know, the kind that makes you, well you.
I am a nomad. I like quiet. I want silence.I want to be the substance in my girls lives. I want to teach them to be strong, smart, independent, motivated, confident, and self-reliant.
Now - in order to do that I must be that. Isn't it time to finally be me?
The me that I have wanted for so long yet put off.
For what?
Why?
I won't make excuses or reason. I will simply say, I have worked far too hard to make my family into what it is right now. I won't quit being strong for them.
I just wonder, when is it okay to be me?

What should

I have read and heard an exorbitant amount of stories regarding abuse of animals, children, and the elderly. It fertilizes the soil of dislike I have for humankind. For those who could, will, have, and continue to harm innocent life assures me we are headed into our own degeneracy. It saddens me that the loss of solicitude and kindness is ever-growing.

Our light should shine on every living thing. Experiences, loss, betrayal, hardship, pain - those are not things to be blanketed onto others just because we have been exercised in their lots.

The innocent are just as they should be. True to us, true themselves, and true to our world.

I can't explain the how deeply the pain descends upon every awareness of every single infliction of pain on what should be a gifted lightness and love.

Life

Life is fleeting, is it not?

Each moment is a step closer to death. The profoundness of that statement haunts me.

There is a book I am reading where they young lady uses a daily mantra to remind herself to be present. She says “I am getting older. My body is decomposing. I am closer to the end”. She also happens to be suffering from leukemia.

Our minds carry tremendous power over us. Oftentimes a mind can create any sort of torment or illness built solely on what it is fed. If a daily mantra of this sort, however present it may make us feel, imparted on our bodies the nearness to death would the body then find a more efficient way to greet death? Similarly, if we fear death daily would that bring death ever closer? Are either of those actual living?

Life is heartbreaking.

Have you ever held the hand of someone you love dearly as they die? I have. 

I watched my mom’s soul rise leaving only a shell behind. Our bodies, as amazing and wonderful as they are, quite simply are hollow vessels that house our spirits.

Death changes you. It changes everything.

The life prior to the death of someone you love ceases and a different one begins.

When my mom died, my circle was broken. My heart was broken, shattered like old glass.

It was empty, I was hollow.

I think about my granny, she is gone and her home will no longer be the place we go home to; that constant no longer exists. Clothes hanging on the line, cedar Christmas trees, her sweetness so gently upon us; none of that will ever be again. The place where my roots were planted will all be dug up and gone.

It makes me sad.

Life is beautiful.
* Looking at sunlight as it streams through the window onto the rug, tiny dust particles floating in the air like fairies in a forest.
* Having my child look up at me with eyes that give me a glimpse all the way through to their souls, their innocence, it takes my breath.
* Walking through a mountain forest on a crisp morning, smelling the laurel and pine, listening to the rustling of some small creature, and a soft breeze breathing a winding path through the leaves.
* Sitting around a fire with people who mean the world to me as love and friendship floats around us like the smoke.
* The youngness I feel whenever I am with my sister – we won’t ever grow old.
* Standing at the ocean with the waves moving sand beneath my feet reflecting on how infinitesimal we are in the universe yet feeling the very wonder of nature as it moves around me.
* Watching the goodness of people in this world and how it overtakes any part of the unkind or hate.
So much beauty...

      
Life is a story.

We are telling our story with each breath and each minute we are here; creating a novel with well-worn pages of who we are. Some lines highlighted while others are too difficult to read; yet we do. Words are written with love, anger, shame, fear, wonder, and tears. Each page filled with notes, edit marks, eraser dust, stains, and illustrations of every single moment of our existence.

I want my book to be beautiful.

When you read it, I want you to understand my every emotion, feel the weight of my tears, and allow the lightness of my smile to linger upon you like a butterfly.  

Life

Life.

It is amazing.
And awful.
And magnificent.
And unyielding.
And incredible.

Having a four year old in your life is nothing short of beautiful. "Mommy, I ate my vestibools (vegetables)!", Upon seeing a photo her sister drew of her, she replies very sternly and quizzically - "I don't have any wegs". Sister - "That's ok". Four-year-old (holding her leg in the air) - "They awyah wight heeyuh". Sister draws the full body - with wegs. "Mommy, I wuv you mo-wuh than Fwozen".
That sweet baby, yet a little bit girl, who makes my heart evaporate into lightness and sparkles. I love her.

It gets so troublesome sometimes, Dreadfully heavy. Don't get me wrong, my gratitude for every new morning my eyes can open to a sunrise, is quite immense. But, some days "life" can sink you. You feel like you've been buried by all of the weight it can bring: refugees fleeing incredible suffering, sickness and decline, personal pain - both physical and mental - that constantly seems to interweave thorns throughout my being, guilt and disfavor that have managed to barnacle themselves on what should be a confident human, and weariness, whose definition need not be defined, for it is inherently felt. Life is most certainly a very arduous path.

That marvelous moment you find exactly what you need. Right this second - in something that could have very easily been overlooked had you not permitted wakefulness. I treasure these moments. I only hope that I allow that open-eyed mindfulness to remain alert. Otherwise, I cease to live in this world.

My four year old's school lost their tortoise mascot this week. Djembe roamed their playground, allowed moments of gentle play, and trumbled (my own word) right through those very children to explore at will. He drowned after escaping their playground. When we started this new school last month, he was the most exciting thing in her/our world. Lynora didn't even seem to mind going to a brand new place with brand new people because Djembe was there. He became a meaningful part of her world before she ever knew him. Every day we grew to love him more. I have known that (sort-of little) sweet, bumbly thing for only a month, but he made a very big impact on our lives and we will miss him so so much.

The bounce back: this is when your children forgive you after a bad-parenting-moment, seemingly unfazed or damaged. As a parent and a coriaceous creature of this world, understanding this extraordinary bounce back is both inexplicable and invaluably precious. The fact that they do it on a regular basis makes you feel that life is the cat's pajamas and all is right with the world.

Y'all, I can't say that I am okay at all times, nor can I say that I am not. What I can admit is that I rather like life. I am here for a reason and I am meant to be exactly where I am at this moment. I will try to forgive my shortcomings, yet I will never apologize for who I am. I will remember that, though I may be nothing but a passing thought to most, I am an entire chapter to others. Things get difficult. We all ride the hills and valleys and it is fucking hard. We can't control the struggle, but we can certainly control our reaction. Given the divine sanction that is life, we are free to assess the value we put upon it. Let's make it high.

The summation of our entire lives comes down to one word.

Love.
It makes ALL things work.