noun: to separate into isolated compartments or categories
This is what fills the chambers of my heart today:
Realizing this little girl is now a person with thoughts and desires (voiced loudly and clearly) all her own. Appreciating how passionate, kind and funny she is.
Barely believing that I am (finally) back in this complex and beautiful city surrounded by family and friends, new and old. Recognizing how incredibly lucky we are to have this opportunity.
Acknowledging that motherhood alone does not define me. That along with my daughter’s laugh, the choosing of words and framing of moments fuel my soul. Taking the first steps towards wearing my new identity, that of a storyteller.
(photo credit YBowyer Photography)
The truth is that this one cannot be contained.
I made the hardest phone call I’ve ever had to make today and tomorrow we say goodbye to our girl. Grief threatens to spill at any moment and does.
At the grocery store it leaks out when I realize I don’t need to buy pet food anymore. On the street when an unsuspecting stranger tells me I have a beautiful dog, the dam breaks. In the middle of the night when I am annoyed to be woken up by her whining to go to the bathroom, grief bitch slaps me and taunts ’soon you can sleep uninterrupted.’
This is my truth.
I am simultaneously overjoyed, heartbroken, grateful, and angry. Full of hope and devoid of it.
Thank God for compartmentalization.