Today’s Mom Tears™ are brought to you by “All the doors we go through” and “Sometimes we have to stand back and watch”
I think a lot. Like a lot, a lot. So darn much that I lay wake in the wee hours to ponder. They could be new to me thoughts or the dreaded replay of past events. Lately though I keep hearing the word door, it pops out in conversation (all full of fluorescent light) and I hear it every where. FINALLY, the word itself has developed into a finished thought. Perhaps tonight sleep will not elude me as I can almost taste the completed wondering.
We so often refer to the phrase when one door closes another opens …. Every day we reach thresholds each one gives us feelings, a fullness of what we expect on the other side. Once the handle is turned, fear of what awaits, still we step over into the unknown. This has led me to remember some of the doors I have gone through. It is amazing that simple hinges fastened to any material can have you enter one person and leave totally different.
How gentle knocking settles the soul and banging upon it is unnerving.
BANG. BANG. BANG. Like gunshot through my soul.
Recently I have crossed over thresholds I never imagined I would. Believe me when I tell you this as I have a very good imagination. It is with the same day dreaming capabilities I envision myself taking up running, or any athletic hobby. Reality sets in as I open yet another treat and giggle to myself. None the less I have stood blanked faced and broken trying with desperation to navigate through this damn door.
I see without understanding how exactly I ended up here and know I am able to only go so far on this journey. Perhaps that is why the handle is so hot. AS it singes my hand, I cannot let go; this has changed me too.
There have been other doors. Some were so exciting, the kind of exciting that even thinking back on those memories gives me goose bumps. The doors that I walked through empty handed and returned back through hours later with a child of my own bundled up and a welling pride inside. I like so many other women preformed the basic very painful ordeal of giving birth. It is with my gang I have gone through so many different entrances and exits, some of those I could only pass through briefly because it is part of their story. School, athletic facilities, places of employment, homes of their friends. Though each has changed me as a mom, as Leigh I am keenly aware, I am a bystander. I can listen even feel how each passing through has been part of creating their own books of this life. What I take away from it is no different than what you the reader takes away from my simple thoughts. They have grown … some of the doors are difficult to push through, some refuse to be nudged. Still when allowed together we give it our all. Here’s where it gets a bit messy; often we are not ready as a family to see the magnitude of what it means to give it a good old fashion group PUSH. I am learning to accept that (Oh boy that’s a tough one) We all have our own views and feelings attached, our own hurts, our own desire for the outcome. This leaves me, the mom, the girl … Leigh afraid. Even in a house as busy as this one is feeling incredibly alone. I would love with all that I am to walk backwards through each door and take back each hurt, each disappointment every feeling of injustice. Knowing that that would not change a darn thing; this life is not meant to be a revolving door spinning allowing those within to pop in and out of rooms only when laughter fills the other side and the option to keep turning waiting for the perfect scenario is nonexistent.
I choose to have hope, to believe laughter will fill this space within and replace the fear, that the smile enhanced with lipstick will be felt in my entire being. Until then I am standing here on this side believing, waiting, watching and overthinking this damn doorway. The one thing of which I am sure is no matter how much it burns or scars that the handle has left, it is just a door and what awaits on the other side will only get better.