I was sitting here trying to pen a verse / prose called “Who
am I and what did I do with me?” and I
was stuck.
The
premise was that when we first start our lives we tend to have some kind of
expectation, dream or thought of how our life might go.
And
that somewhere along the way, life happens and things don’t turn out as
expected, dreamed or planned. And the “who”
we thought we’d be gets lost.
Marriage,
children, jobs, friends, moves, graduations, children leaving, their marriage,
their children.
So,
so much motion, and noise, and clutter.
Life’s messy, as it should be.
And the words still didn’t flow. Still stuck (seems to be a running theme).
So I sat here deep in thought and realized that the one
constant through the noise and the clutter was my husband. And then he was gone. And the house was silent.
And I begin to see that my writing is helping me make peace
with the silence.
And so I find ways to heal the hurt, to be contemplative, to
review what was to choose what is.
In looking back through the twists and turns of my life, it
occurs to me that left to my own devices, I could not have envisioned this life but
I have come to appreciate I would not
change my life.
And that somewhere
along the way, life happened and things didn’t turn out as expected, dreamed or
planned.
And the “who” I am got
found.
Life happens.
As it’s meant and as
it should.
Copyright 2012. All rights reserved.
