As children we dream of what our life is going to be like. We have hopes and goals, whimsies and wishes. We put stock in the future, somehow believing.
For some reason, there are days where I am alright with the fact that my life didn't even come close to what I had envision. I had desired, more than anything, an intact family that loved and lived and failed and won but stuck together through it all. Life throws those curve balls and we roll with it, right? We make the best of it, our attitude being everything.
Other days, like today, it feels as if the fucking curve ball struck me straight in the head, knocked me to the ground and I am finding it hard to breathe. One more time, like a silly idiot, I wish my mom was here to hold me and tell me it will be alright.
It's OK. Tomorrow will be a lot better. Good to not say too much or make any decisions when this dark cloud comes. What I'd really like to do is take a long nap in my old bedroom on the ground floor of my house, when the afternoon sun brightened the room and warmed the quilt and the familiar smells filled my senses with, with....... with what? I don't know exactly. Life was not all that great then. Often times it was filled with confusion, erratic behavior and resentment but it was what I knew and I was accustomed to it and, even better, my kids were still all there. Part of me kept trying to fulfill the dreams of that little girl, giving her that place of security, safety and unquestioned love.
Not feeling remotely safe or secure at the moment but that doesn't mean it is so....it means that is the just feeling I am having right now. It could mean that I have set impossibly high standards or maybe it’s that my life just is not fitting well or, perhaps, "an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of underdone potato."
Not sure but tomorrow is a new day.