In the unfolding story of my life, this year might be considered the turning point. Some may call this deconstruction. Or reckoning or mid-life or maturity. Whatever the case, this year my eyes were opened.
Once upon a time there was a little girl who, as she grew up, discovered that her heart came alive as she engaged with her story and learned how to share it.
The thing about pain is that it doesn't go away when it's ignored. It gets hidden, stuffed away in a box at the very back of the heart's closet and for a while forgotten about. But it always finds its way out eventually.
When something is shattered sometimes the pieces are too small to put back together again. But that's just because you're looking at it wrong.
I've known since the moment I had kids that I had to hold them loosely. That tomorrow is not guaranteed. But knowing that and actually doing that are two very different things.