Most days I’m fine.
Most days when I wake up, I turn my head to gaze out my
bedroom window and I smile. My heart is full and I look forward to whatever
wonderful things the day might bring.
But the nights?
Well, sometimes the nights wait for me in the corner of my room like a jealous
friend intent on turning what is right and sweet in my life into something
horrible, painful and hopeless.
Those nights, the ones at the end of a long and tiring day, I lay my
head on my pillow and I cry. I
think of so many of the challenges that I face each day, and my thoughts
race. My mind jumps from one problem
to another, causing them to swell into something so painful that at times I
can’t bear it.
I toss and turn until finally I lay my head close to my
window and I glance longingly to the evening sky. My eyes dart towards the
heavens searching the stars for the strength that I’m sure my departed loves
ones are sending my way. Surely
they are still protecting me, guiding me and protecting me; surely.
But I suppose to them I’m like my own lovely daughters. I’ve pushed them into the world hoping
and praying that they can find their way; that they’re equipped with the
strength and common sense to make good choices and to use life challenges to
build their character and help them become the women they are meant to be. My angels guided me along the way, and
have apparently pushed me gently into my present and stepped back.
I’m stumbling a bit, on legs that I thought were
strong. But that’s what we all do,
isn’t it? However, at this stage
of the game some of us have a loving companion walking beside us lending a hand
and lifting us up.
And some of us don’t.
Yes, most days I’m fine. But on those nights when the moon shines her light into my
window and wakes up my jealous friend, I’m not.
Oh hell, don’t worry. Most days I’m getting better and better at telling her to pack up my troubles and get on her way.
Oh hell, don’t worry. Most days I’m getting better and better at telling her to pack up my troubles and get on her way.
Most days.
