There are some days when I try to rewind and take myself, mentally, back to the moments of my childhood.
Those were simple days when I believed everyone was good. They were days when the biggest decisions consisted of which coloring book to choose or what game to play.
"Should I wear two of the same colored Converse sneakers ("Bobos" as we used to call them) or one purple and one white?"
On warm spring afternoons, I try to emotionally recall the feelings I had when my best friend and I would spread a blanket under the bright green leaves of the maple tree in her front yard and attempt to write our best poetry.
On other days, we would hop off the school bus, grab a couple packs of Tastykakes from the kitchen and head into the woods to play "orphans." We survived by pretending to make onion grass soup and building imaginary campfires to keep us warm.
Nothing else mattered. There were no worries, no financial stresses. Tears fell, but only because of some bumps and bruises.
Is there ever the prospect of having those light-hearted feelings again? Not a care in the world? Is it possible to feel that child-like freedom once we ?
Now that I’m a parent, I have to be so careful to guard my children from the weight of the world. They deserve to relish in these years of innocent pleasures.
But it's hard sometimes! Have you had a point in your life when you knew your adult stresses were having an impact on your family? That they were far beyond your ability to keep a poker face.
It’s not easy to mask your emotions to the ones you love the most, even when you know it might hurt them to see you hurting.
As much as we try to do what’s best, to help those in need, to be faithful to our beliefs, and to lead by example, there is always going to be something or someone trying to drag us down. There’s going to be some burden we have to carry in front of our children.
I hate that.
I hate that I’m not strong enough to protect them when I’m upset. Sometimes my tears fall in their presence, and I can see a little piece of their hearts breaking for me.
They don’t understand…and they shouldn’t have to.
They sometimes look at me as if they don’t know what to do. Then they slowly come to me and tenderly hug me and say things like, “It’s OK mom. I love you. Don’t cry.”
I want them to see me as invincible. I want them to know I’m strong and am always going to be their rock. That's my job, isn't it?
But then again, these difficult times can prove our strength and perseverance. And this is a lesson that needs to be learned.
For just one day, just ONE day...I would love to not have a care in the world…
Maybe I'll start with a new pair of Converse ... purple or white?