I’m tired of listening to my own thoughts, so I can only imagine how you must feel reading them.
I know what it is important in life. Love – family – serenity – service – enduring friendships.
I’m burned out on the wheel though.
If I had a magic wand, it would put me somewhere with a future. A chance to spread my wings and not have them operated by ‘must’. Must fly here – must fly there – must not touch the light.
I wrote this poem years ago, and it’s become a metaphor for what could have been.
“In memory of …” the tomb began,
I could not read much more.
My loss engraved in cold grey stone, was too much to endure.
I turned away, too pained to stay,
And walked to clear my mind.
All the while regretting what I had to leave behind.
6:00 a.m. Alarm goes off.
6:10 a.m. Take breakfast in to my sleeping teen.
6:15 a.m. Sit outside with my first cup of coffee and look up at the stars. (Is that a satellite or a plane? What is that?)
6:30 a.m. Teen has eaten and arisen and is checking his Facebook with 10 minutes left to get ready for school.
6:40 a.m. I see my son out the backdoor, give him a quick hug and he says those words to me. “See you when I get back when you get back”.
I stand on the back porch and wave. It’s dark outside, so I’m mostly waving at my sons shadowy outline – and it waves back. When I can’t see him anymore I go into the house to grab another cup of coffee and watch some more news before getting ready.
7:00 a.m. Get ready myself.
I mentioned yesterday to a friend that I feel like I’m stuck in the movie ‘Groundhog Day’ lately. And I do. But, this morning routine I’ll keep.
This morning routine means.
6:00 a.m. I am still alive, and I have my hearing
6:10 a.m. We have food and my son is safe
6:15 a.m. Serenity
6:30 a.m. The electric and internet bill is paid
6:40 a.m. My son still hugs me, still talks to me …
7:00 a.m. Blessed to have a job to get ready for!