I Want to Think of 100 Things That Make Me Happy
Oh my goodness! I had meant to write 1 thing that makes me happy, every day, until I got to 100 things. I kind of let time get away from me the past few weeks and now I have 23 things to catch up on.
[u]Two[/u]
I am so thankful for my family. I was dreading going home this past weekend. I took a couple of days off in addition to Memorial Day weekend, so it was going to be 5 days with my family. I think the part that I dislike the most is to see that things are not the same. The woman that my mother once was has deteriorated with age. The large house that I grew up in seems much smaller to my adult body, and all of my friends and memories have moved away.
I re-enter the home as a grown stranger. I critique and fix with my eyes, wondering what it would have been if I had stayed. But then I am embraced by my mother. My brother pats me on the back, and my stepfather smiles and nods. My two nephews and youngest niece play on the floor beneath me. Their bare toes squeezing into the carpet as they crawl from one end of the room to the other.
I sit and talk with each of my family members. As we continue, I realize that even in our differences, we are still the same people we have always been. No matter how much distance and time was between us, it had not separated us from our core values. We are there for each other, and we have unconditional love for one another.
Talking with my family reminded me of my roots and who I was growing up, and who they see me as. They lift me up. I feel rejuvenated. And when I walk into my old home the doors act as an invisible shield, screening out the masks and facades I must wear in my 'real world'. When I cross the threshold, I am fully me again. My past and my present meet. It is humbling, and I feel whole.
And no matter how much I hate going home sometimes... I'm glad I did.
[u]Two[/u]
I am so thankful for my family. I was dreading going home this past weekend. I took a couple of days off in addition to Memorial Day weekend, so it was going to be 5 days with my family. I think the part that I dislike the most is to see that things are not the same. The woman that my mother once was has deteriorated with age. The large house that I grew up in seems much smaller to my adult body, and all of my friends and memories have moved away.
I re-enter the home as a grown stranger. I critique and fix with my eyes, wondering what it would have been if I had stayed. But then I am embraced by my mother. My brother pats me on the back, and my stepfather smiles and nods. My two nephews and youngest niece play on the floor beneath me. Their bare toes squeezing into the carpet as they crawl from one end of the room to the other.
I sit and talk with each of my family members. As we continue, I realize that even in our differences, we are still the same people we have always been. No matter how much distance and time was between us, it had not separated us from our core values. We are there for each other, and we have unconditional love for one another.
Talking with my family reminded me of my roots and who I was growing up, and who they see me as. They lift me up. I feel rejuvenated. And when I walk into my old home the doors act as an invisible shield, screening out the masks and facades I must wear in my 'real world'. When I cross the threshold, I am fully me again. My past and my present meet. It is humbling, and I feel whole.
And no matter how much I hate going home sometimes... I'm glad I did.
31-35, F
