Yes, I guess so. I feel like I have a lot to say. This world is complicated, people are complex, and life is interesting. The only consistency is God and His love for us. Through the difficult times and the happy times, I can be assured of that. My wish for myself: enjoy the journey.
Oh Time, you are a thief. You take, you devour. My minutes, my hours…they slip through my fingers like grains of sand. I grasp at the Past. But the closer that I keep it, the more that it slips away. The Present is a fleeting illusion that laughs at my attempts to hold on to it. The Future taunts me, it whispers lies and truths, I often can’t distinguish between the two. My advice? Well my advice to you would be to make Time your friend. Don’t make Time your enemy… no don’t make Time your enemy.
One day, I decided to go through what I didn’t want to keep… because I felt lost. I put on some old music, I went up into the attic of memories. I sought to remember what I forgot. The things that I didn’t purposefully or intentionally forget. At first I felt nostalgic. I felt they breeze on the country wind on my face, and I smelled the evergreens. I remembered the old pickup truck, and the dusty dashboard. It was fun at first.
As the songs played, I unpacked more boxes of the past. I forgot that my mind held all of this storage. I found an old diary, I flipped through the pages. I began to cry. As the 90s country ballad played, I cried. I cried for my sister. I cried for my mom. I cried for myself. But I didn’t cry for my dad, I remember his disappointment when he looked across the table. Not at me, but at her. I could still see my sister’s wet eyes and red face as she pretended that the words that our father said didn’t hurt. I remembered the fights. The arguing. The yelling. I recalled all of the years. All of the hard years.
I remember the confusion. I felt the loneliness. The pitch black loneliness. I remember the nights where I layed awake. I was uncertain about the future, uncertain about tomorrow. I remembered the depression. My pillows were tear-stained, I remembered the moist fabric on my cheek. I remember running out of the house and into the field by the road. The walls of the house restrained me in a way that I couldn’t even breath.
I was wrong. I did purposefully and intentionally forget those things. I packed them away and stored them as if they were never a part of my life. I pretended that they weren’t there, although the memories always were there in the corner of my eye. They were there in the corner of my mind. I never did want to remember, and I never will want to remember. But I never can truly forget.
Oh summertime. Why do you tease me so? You flirt during spring, make me want and desire you. You make promises. Some you can keep, and some that you cannot. You have plenty of admirers. They expect a lot from you. Just when I think that I have you, I can’t keep you. Summertime you slip through my fingers like grains of sand. Its just a matter of time until the air around you is chilly, and you give me the cold shoulder. I know that this is not goodbye, and that’s my consolation.
I have accidentally stepped away from writing for a while. Pursuing extra career certifications has left me spending more time in cardiac textbooks. I am also studying Spanish. Learning a new launguage is rewarding and then extremely frustrating and vise versa. Winston Churchill once said “I am always ready to learn although I do not always like being taught”. Oh, how there is truth in that! If I could just get the knowledge without the effort then that would change everything. But truthfully, where is the fun in that?
In order to maintain my sanity in this ride called life and with a demanding job, I must maintain my priorities. I need to keep God at number 1, I need to spend quality time with my family, and I need my creative outlet. So, I must write on.
If you feed Fear, Hope starves
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