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Category Archives: Freshly Pressed

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Your Days are Numbered.”

I wrote this post in January of 2014. As the post was about my days being numbered, I thought that I would reprint it with today’s number prompt.

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so many candles so little cake

It is January 26th – The day after January 25th. So far you are obviously impressed with my superior manipulation of the obvious.

However, my days truly are numbered and the day after the 25th suddenly becomes more weighted with emotion and consternation. Yesterday, my youngest child turned 18; a big achievement and a milestone for us all. However, while I was happy to hear that it was his best birthday ever, it brought reality crashing into the 26th.

This best birthday had nothing to do with me. He is away at school and happy with his teachers, dorm mates and looking forward to bench pressing at the gym.

I brought him into the world and he is more than ready to fly. In fact, he would fly just about anywhere rather than home. No, I am not being maudlin or feeling sorry for myself, it is simply the truth.  His days of adventure and the freedom to travel, without permission slips as a minor, are stacking up like his collection of boxed basketball shoes.

My kids are more powerful and independent and I am more tired. This may be the cycle of things, but it is still scary to see the unknown third act.  Arthritis is setting into my joints as my son bench presses 900 pounds with his legs.  He cannot get his clothes tight enough and I cannot get mine loose.

He tells me that the ability to push off so much weight is all in the mind.  How did the 18 year old figure this out when I cannot? So, it is January 26th, the first day of the rest of my life with “adult children”. Truly, a Mother’s oxymoron if I ever heard one.

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Thanks for stopping by! It means more than you know.

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I took a deep breath and listened to the old bray of my heart: I am, I am, I am.
– Sylvia Plath

“How do you tell if something’s alive? You check for breathing.”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

In one of those rare moments when I rose above the pain, I realized that I was breathing. It was not just one of those shallow breaths that we hold onto for too long; it rose above me and out towards the world.

I had been holding my breath for so long, or trying not to, that I did not know how good it would feel.

This was a moment when I realized I could see beyond the grief. Once I exhaled, I realized that I had clarity in my mind as well as my body.

These moments are to be treasured for breathing is no simple task. Holding onto our air and diving deep, or being submerged with no known way out, takes more effort. It costs more, it feels more, to withhold our breath.

My grief and loss took my breath away and I did not know how long it would take to get it back. Once I did, I realized just how long I had been under the ebbs and flows of pounding waves, and how long it had taken me to come out to shore. My feet pressing into the Earth was a reminder that other parts of my body denied attention were still there.

Trying to ground myself deeper into being reminded me that those whose lack of empathy or compassion was truly hurtful no longer deserved my attention. It was my own once again.

Even if it only happened once in awhile, I was miraculously able to acknowledge it, appreciate it, and wait for its next return.

faith

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Thank you for stopping by! It means more than you know.
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In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Beneath Your Feet.”

“Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.” 
W.B. Yeats, The Wind Among the Reeds

slate 3 FullSizeRender

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Thank you so much for visiting and sharing my posts.  It means more than you know. 🙂

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Yes, I get emotional and sentimental. But each tear is filled with love and you never outgrow being my child. Your life is filled with the exhaustion of small children, late nights at work, and the journey of self-discovery.

Who you will become, and who you are now, is always changing.

I have never given up on you and we never could.  The words don’t always come out right and love does not always mean agreement.  Loving unconditionally does not mean that everything you do is perfect to me, but knowing that it means everything to you, means I support you.

You began changing a long time ago and my memories are of another time in your life when you needed me.  Today, you need to find out who you are and that means moving away from where we are to create your own home.

But, please know, that wherever you go and wherever you leave your mark, you can always come home. Even if it is just a phone call, a text, or a photo, I appreciate all of them and your home will always be in my heart. Thank you for including me in your life.

Just know, wherever you are, you can always come back home.

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Thank you for stopping by! I hope that you enjoy your visit and please feel free to share this with someone you love.

Home isn’t just a place, it is a state of mind.

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