I have always been the type of person who runs away and hides under the sheets whenever the barbs of life fall too close to the heart. This week has felt like one of those times.
On the one hand I am so excited about the year ahead in general, but on the home front some not-so-nice occurrences have happened and I don’t feel equipped to deal with them all.
Sometimes when Keira is playing with other children and I’m watching and she’s trying to get their attention and she’s saying, “Hey guys! Hey listen to me! Hey I’m over here” and the other children either ignore her or don’t hear, I’m the one who witnesses her crestfallen look, her sad twist of the lips, and my heart wrenches.
I’m also the first pair of eyes she see’s when she looks up, I’m the one with the willing and encouraging words, I’m the one who tells her that it’s all okay, and why doesn’t she come play over here instead? I’m the one who gives her a cuddle and whispers words of love in her ear.
It’s weeks like this I wish I had the permission to be that vulnerable again, because I honestly doubt if I have the strength to buck myself up. Well, of course I can – we all can – but it’s not easy. It takes time and our wounded spirits aren’t all that quick to repare (well, mine aren’t).
It’s weeks like this I understand the philosophy of Peter Pan and I want to be a lost boy girl forevermore.
