The Things I Carry

I have to say, "I love you," and "good-bye" at all points of departure no matter how brief or for what short distance my beloved will travel. To the beloved, it means I'm high maintenance and needy, but it is because I carry the memory of a last good-bye. The farewell you never forget because it was the last one before the person left you. My friend, she left this world all too young and all too soon. I carry the grief and that burden to not let the moment pass.

I carry the shame and failure of divorce; the weight of its curse on my children. I carry the pain of feeling unloved and unwanted. I carried the weight of not knowing how to make this decision for years, then once I made it, the burden was lifted, but the weight replaced by deeper fears.

According to my rank, if you will, I carry the badge of courage in motherhood. It means I feel the weight of worry and indecision. I carry the guilt from loosing my temper, and the inadequacy of parenting. I feel the radiance of a star as my baby's face lights up my world. I carry their smiles.

In my rucksack, I also have all the things that sustain me in life: my friends, my family and my faith. In those moments, when I hoped death would take me, my friends used bandages dressing my wounds, so I didnt' bleed out. When I knew I was out of the darkness, and I experienced joy again, my family and friends celebrated my return.