But I am finally carving out a few minutes...because I need this time even more when Life seems to want to allow it the least. I need to know that I am more than just someone who cleans up messes, and packs lunches, and cleans out the cat litter box.
I keep thinking about this patchwork of a life with which I have been blessed. There are the stories that my grandmother told me when I was a child which are woven next to the poem my elder daughter wrote on the back of the past-due electric bill. There are snippets of songs, and wafts of smells, that allow me to travel back in time stitched snugly next to my dreams for my children's future. I am ashamed to admit that I have neglected this patchwork shroud. There are parts that I cut out, and there are gaping holes that remain, that need desperately to be tended to...so that I can continue to be proud of this mantel.
But really, what I really want is to make sure that, when my kids look at me. they know that there is something more there...more than just someone who wiped their butts and kissed their boo-boos. I want them to know that I have hopes, and dreams, and fears. I want them to know that I am not perfect, and that I don't expect perfection from them either. I want them to live life fearlessly, to love passionately, and to dream big. I want them to know that sacrifices can pay off, but not to play the martyr.
I have seen too many fucking martyrs who wear their penance like a showpiece. I want better than that for them.
I woke up this morning with such grand intentions...but there is tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow will be the day that I can be the perfect mom, the perfect wife, the best of friend. Yeah, I doubt it too, but just maybe...
"maybe." Such a loaded word.
It reminds me of Pandora's box, and how she let out all the evils except one...hope...the most dangerous of them all.
Good thing I like living on the edge.
