The Winds Are Blowing In From The East

The casket is closed. It is always difficult to watch such an excruciating death. My knees weakened and tears seemed endless. So difficult to let go, no longer able to be called upon. I have mourned and grieved this death for a long time.

Now, I am convinced that it was for the best. It was my pride that had died that day.

It had been some time ago, I fell down on my luck. I had been filled with a sense of hopelessness which pained me to start each new day. A new day consumed with dread and despair, achieving nothing but to be reminded how my ridiculous goals were far from being realistically attained. My goals were sitting on the other side of the ocean and all life handed me was a paddle, which was broken. I have cried, screamed and complained, which only seemed to spread the gap wider between me and my happiness.

Gratitude showed its face to me out of fear. I was afraid things were going to get worse. I was afraid that terrible things would continue to happen in my life and I was fearful of what would become of my children. Gratitude would stop by here and there to console me. Gratitude made me feel fortunate for the little we did have and taught me the importance of the intangible things, which is too often overlooked. Gratitude eventually replaced the ugly pride that filled my soul, no longer able to consume my happiness.

I have lived in this quote everyday since the death of my pride.

The other day the sun rose in the sky. It was an ordinary day for most, getting the kids off to school, hauling to work. The flowers and trees are busy carrying out spring. The post had been delivered, filling our mailboxes with empty hands waiting for their share of your hard earned money. Some people probably ran a red light and others needed to pick up a few things at the store. All were completely unaware of the wind’s from the east blowing in . . .

As many of you were going about your day, my makeshift boat scraped on the shallow bottom of the beach, as my calloused hands pulled it ashore.

I have arrived on the other side of that ocean.

I used duct tape on the paddle. It turns out, it worked just fine.

A Letter To My Son

My son just recently turned eight!  I am in shock as I sort through photographs of him, tiny and chubby, but still ever so handsome.  Now when he hugs me his head rests just under my chin.  In his class, his teacher plans a week long celebration for the birthday child.  One of the ways to celebrate was to have me write him a letter.  So I did. Here it is.

Dear My Eight Year Old Boy,

In Paris, France there is a bridge called the Pont Marie. This bridge is known as the “Kissing Bridge” because it is believed if you kiss your true love and make a wish as you pass underneath, the wish will come true.  Some time ago, your father and I took a boat ride down the Seine in Paris. When we passed under this famous bridge, we kissed, and I made a wish.  Nine months later, my wish came true, it was you.

As my first child, you changed me from being just a woman to a mother. I will always be grateful to you, as I believe being a mother is one of my purposes in life.

You have grown into an amazing person. You are athletic, smart and funny.  You are extremely talented in your writing and drawings. I have seen you be a great friend to others and a role model to your sisters.  You are compassionate, caring and patient, you have to be with three younger sisters!

As you know, I always ask you to do your best.  The reason is because I know that your best will take you wherever you want to go in life.  Please always remember this. Oh, and good hair helps! 😉

To an awesome, extraordinary 8 year old, Happy Birthday! We are always here for you and will always support you.

Always know, all the love I have in my heart, I have for you!

Love,

Mommy

xoxoxoxoxoxox

Write letters to your children and save them! I am grateful to have been asked to do this and intend on continuing to write all of my children a letter every year.  What do you think?