the world keeps on spinning
Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if I were an artist and could put the phases of my life into paintings to hang on the wall. When it comes down to it, what tangibles do we take away from ex boyfriends, jobs, and school? Each phase we go through is mostly just a series of memories we refer to and either fight back our tears, or smile.
Today I walked through the house with my daughter and pointed to all of the photographs.
"Here is Uncle Jordan and Uncle Chris taking a bath. Look at Uncle Chris's silly hair!"
"Here is momma at the beach. That is the ocean."
"This is your grandpa Trey. He's a silly guy."
She is learning our history. She begs to be carried from photograph to photograph and she points to the people in the pictures. She listens to all of the stories.
She smiled when I picked her up today. She was sitting in her high chair eating bits of Chines takeout, her cheeks were rosy, and she was so happy to see me. What made it so great, what really made me grateful was that she was content doing what she was going. She didn't need me to pick her up right away, she did not cling to my legs for the rest of the evening. She felt as if she were right at home.
On a less sentimental note, I gave in and bought her a pair of silver sparkle fur lined crocks. She loves them, nearly as much as she loves her Uggs.
I had a great conversation with Christopher about how sometimes you see places that remind you of certain people, and even though you know you shouldn't you still feel sad because once you were really happy there with that person. Christopher asked me if it will ever go away and I told him no. He asked me if it gets better, and I promised him it does. I hope I'm not lying to him. I honestly think it's true.
It begs the question-
How many times can a heart break?
Can we really promise ourselves we will never feel that way again? And if we don't, does it mean we are failing to really live and feel as we should? Then I wonder about Annabelle. Her heart will break someday, and I hope that I'm able to help her with the pieces. The thought is heartbreaking in itself. I want to save her from the world, but I know I can't.
I love her so completely, and so purely, with no reservations and it's hardwired into me to protect her at any cost. I hope when the time comes I can release her. It's making me emotional.
Today I walked through the house with my daughter and pointed to all of the photographs.
"Here is Uncle Jordan and Uncle Chris taking a bath. Look at Uncle Chris's silly hair!"
"Here is momma at the beach. That is the ocean."
"This is your grandpa Trey. He's a silly guy."
She is learning our history. She begs to be carried from photograph to photograph and she points to the people in the pictures. She listens to all of the stories.
She smiled when I picked her up today. She was sitting in her high chair eating bits of Chines takeout, her cheeks were rosy, and she was so happy to see me. What made it so great, what really made me grateful was that she was content doing what she was going. She didn't need me to pick her up right away, she did not cling to my legs for the rest of the evening. She felt as if she were right at home.
On a less sentimental note, I gave in and bought her a pair of silver sparkle fur lined crocks. She loves them, nearly as much as she loves her Uggs.
I had a great conversation with Christopher about how sometimes you see places that remind you of certain people, and even though you know you shouldn't you still feel sad because once you were really happy there with that person. Christopher asked me if it will ever go away and I told him no. He asked me if it gets better, and I promised him it does. I hope I'm not lying to him. I honestly think it's true.
It begs the question-
How many times can a heart break?
Can we really promise ourselves we will never feel that way again? And if we don't, does it mean we are failing to really live and feel as we should? Then I wonder about Annabelle. Her heart will break someday, and I hope that I'm able to help her with the pieces. The thought is heartbreaking in itself. I want to save her from the world, but I know I can't.
I love her so completely, and so purely, with no reservations and it's hardwired into me to protect her at any cost. I hope when the time comes I can release her. It's making me emotional.