. . . The laughter of children
I have missed that in my home. The laughter of small children and the wonder that they see in everything that you show them. Over the last four days I was reminded of that by my 'grandson' Timmy (in quotes because he's not mine by blood, but as long as he will let me claim him I will)
Timmy is three. And three is a fun age. Fun because it's not two. And fun because it's closer to four. Three is the age where they really start to test their parents resolve. Some succeed in this test, some fail. Kids are a great window into the way we allow ourselves to be treated. And I believe the best parents make sure that their children are respectful. Its an on going job for many years, but eventually it does sink in. If you are consistent and don't give in. Thats the real test and trick. Not sending mixed messages.
Mixed messages are a bane in my life, as an adult. I feel like my life right now is full of mixed messages, and exceptions. . . double standards, if you will. Rules I held dear, the lines have blurred, and while a huge part of me is empowered by this, another part of me is getting lost. And I'm not sure I like that. I don't like losing myself in anything or anyone so completely.
And if I felt like I was winning, actually having the relationship I know I deserve, then I know I wouldn't feel like this at all. That this is all because I have and am lost. Lost in a fantasy that will never come true. Lost without him.
Am I waking up? When I do, I think this is really going to hurt. And maybe that's why I can't wake up. Maybe thats the real reason I won't wake up. I really am only afraid of pain.
. . . I think maybe I need a wake up call. I think maybe I need to escape. Anyone want to take a boat trip to a deserted island?
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