Reflections

This has never happened to me before.  I was laying in bed, in that state of half sleep/ half awake when an image popped into my head.  An image of bare feet on wet stones.  From there it turned into the following.  Please keep in mind that I am in no way a writer, and most especially not a fiction writer.  But it is what it is and I had to write it down.  Once I read it to Mikayla, she convinced me to post it.  So, here goes.

REFLECTIONS

Barefoot, she silently padded along the wet stone path, ancient boughs reaching out above her, shielding her from the sharp needles of a heavy rain.

She is surrounded and embraced by the greens and browns of the forest, damp and pungent, the earthy scents filling her being with nature's miracles.

Birdsong brings a smile to her rosy lips as she imagines the birds are singing just for her, urging her forward down this meandering path as if toward her destiny.  The air is cool but she feels no discomfort.  She realizes that her clothes must be wet, and they should be heavy and sticking to her skin, but instead she feels silk and satin against her body.

With each seemingly weightless step she takes, her toes press into the slick stone, memorizing each vein and crack as if they were a map leading her to her destination, her future.  What should have been an ordinary walk through a beautiful woods is something else entirely, this much she can somehow sense.

A gentle breeze caresses her face, bringing with it the sweet smell of unseen flowers hiding among the green of the woods.  She cannot see them but she can picture them in her mind and loves them for their very existence.  Here in the forest there is the eternal cycle of life and death, and life again, renewed.

In the distance she spies something standing in the center of her pathway, small, but blocking the way to her final destination, her future, her truth.  Her easy gait falters; she is suddenly unsure of her journey.  Feeling overwhelmed she pivots on her toes, her intention to follow the stone path back to its beginning.  But to her surprise, the path has disappeared, in its place the forest, dark and impenetrable, surrounding her on all sides but one.

Now fearful, she turns back to her original direction and sucks in a quick breath, for there, before her, is an owl of such breadth and height as to be other-worldly.  Standing motionless, his golden eyes large, perfectly round, he gazed back at her knowingly.  She sensed that he was looking beyond her physical self, perhaps glimpsing her very soul.

Disconcerted, yet oddly comforted by the owl's presence, she took a moment to study him as he was studying her.  Larger than any owl she had ever seen, she gazed with wonder upon his snowy white feathers, wanting to rub her cheeks across their silky softness.  As if sensing her curiosity, the owl lifted and unfurled his wings, impressing her with their immense length. 

He gathered his wings to him once again and turned his head 180 degrees, as if to show off his incredible ability.  When once again he turned his regal head to face her, it was not his golden coin eyes she was looking into any longer, but instead, a reflection of herself.  It was as if the owl's eyes had turned into a mirror, but one of magic, because the image she now saw of herself was vastly different than the woman she had glimpsed in her mirror that very morning.

Gone were the flaws that marked her skin, leaving her face unlined and glowing with youth.  Gone were the many extra pounds of flesh, her body now beautifully rounded and curved, but healthy.  She also felt an inner peace, her heart filled to overflowing with love given and received unconditionally.

She was beautiful.  Both inside and out.  For the first time in her life she felt total comfort within herself.  Never did she want to break this image of herself; she longed to sit here with this owl for all time, for it was only here that she could ever be this happy, this content.

The owl blinked once, and when his eyes opened once more, she saw something new in the reflection, something she was sure had not been there before.  Standing behind her was a man, tall and broad, wavy black hair flowing beautifully in the soft breeze.  His eyes were of turquoise seas, clear and bright, looking directly into those of the owl.  One of his long-fingered hands rested lightly, gently, on her shoulder, their only physical connection.

Suddenly confused, she shouted out, "I don't understand any of this!  Why is this happening to me?"

And amazingly the owl answered her plea.

"You have come on this journey for a reason.  You thought yourself unworthy of love and beauty and refused to see that you have always possessed these traits.  I lured you here in the guise of a dream to show you what your future could be if only you believed in yourself .

The reflection you've seen in my eyes, the feelings of peace and love, have not been of your own perspective.  The man behind you.  This is what he sees, what he feels when he looks at you.  In his eyes you are utter perfection and truest love.  You are his every dream, his sole desire, the half that completes him.

The man behind you?  He is your future, if only you are brave enough to believe it is so."

Pssst! If you love me, you might love my stupid sister more. Go visit her at Jill's Believe it or Not, and tell her I sent you!

On Motherhood

Angie, over at 7 Clown Circus has asked bloggers to write about what motherhood is to them. This is what I've come up with.

I never had that strong urge many young girls get, the urge that tells them they want to eventually be a mother. Sure, I used to play house with my friends, pretending I was the mom to that perfect imaginary baby.

As a young teenager I started thinking up names for my future children, the children I would have with my first boyfriend, Matt. If we had a son, he would be Reese, after a character in the movie Terminator. I never did have a son and luckily no children came of my young relationship with Matt. I do still love the name Reese though.

When Jimmy and I married, having children wasn't even on our radar. I always knew that he wanted to some day be a father, but I was still in that undecided, terrified stage. I've always been an extremely codependent person. How the hell could I nurture a child when I couldn't even nurture myself?

But it happened, and quite suddenly. One day, when we had been married for three years or so it finally popped into my head. I think I'd like to get pregnant. Not, I want to be a mom; I hadn't thought that far ahead. I was more interested in the whole experience of being pregnant.

I think it was two months later that the little stick thing turned up with a blue line. Happiness, yes. Terror? Hell yes. It finally hit me. I'm pregnant, but holy shit, there's going to be a baby when the pregnancy is done!

How am I going to do this? What if I get morning sickness? Throwing up is my worst fear in the whole world. And even if I don't get morning sickness, babies get sick! How am I going to deal with that?

I wish I could tell you that once Mikayla was born the phobia went away, or at least got better. But it didn't. In fact, it got exponentially worse. And it wasn't just the emetophobia that was affecting me, but agoraphobia and panic disorder. I never went anywhere alone with Mikayla for nearly the entire first year of her life.

Fast forward another three years or so when I had another, I want another baby moment. A month later, I was pregnant with Madison.

Now I've got two girls dependent on me, plus a host of phobias and "mental" disorders which affect my life every. single. minute. of every. single. day.

There has not been even one time that I have gotten in the car with my kids without thinking, "What if they get sick? What will I do?" I completely freak out around any kind of gastrointestinal illness. You've heard of the flight or fight response? Mine is flight, then catatonia.

All of this to tell you that motherhood, to me, is a daily challenge. Yes, it is a challenge to every mom, but for me it goes beyond the everyday trial and errors that come along with children. I live in constant fear of something that to most other people is just a normal bodily function. An unpleasant one, to be sure, but something that is not feared and obsessed over 24/7. Do my fears affect my children in a negative way? Hell yes, and I hate it that it does. I've tried my hardest to hide my ever-present terror from my girls but I've only been partially successful. Mikayla is my strong, fearless child, the one who helps shelter Madison from my weaker moments. Madison, on the other hand, is her mother's daughter and already exhibits signs of having the same "issues" as me, fear of what she terms #3 among them.

My different problems make me less of a mother than I want to be, but I still wouldn't change having my girls for all the money in the world. Because I may not be a perfect mom, or even a really good one, but I do the best I can, and hope that with enough love from me, my girls will never look back and wish they had a different kind of mother. I pray that somehow I will be able to instill in them the independence that I have never had. I will wrap them up securely in my love, my respect for them, my dreams for their futures. And if one day they become the strong, powerful, loving, independent women I wish them to be, maybe then I will be able to look back and feel pride in knowing that in some small way I helped get them there.

Sharing a silly moment with Mikayla, December 2008

My sweet princess, August, 2009

Pssst! If you love me, you might love my stupid sister more. Go visit her at Jill's Believe it or Not, and tell her I sent you!