I never write raw. I always clear my head and see things better the next day or even in a few hours.
Tonight, I took a walk. A couple miles. Usually it's just me and the kids. Rarely ever do I pass anyone on our route. It's very peaceful and just the way I like it.
Tonight I took Tessa in the wagon and tonight I had to share the road. A sweet little family with two girls...one on a tricycle and one riding a scooter. The one on the tricycle seemed pretty young...maybe 2, maybe 3. It's funny how when it's a little girl, I seem to lose all ability to guess her age. Tonight, my mind went to an immediate comparison. I quickly transitioned from trying to guess her age....to imagining Tessa riding that little tricycle. The little girl's dad was hollering from behind for her to 'slow down and scoot over'....making way for the crazy lady pulling an empty wagon??....
Next came her sister, riding her scooter...just tall enough to look inside the wagon as she passed, to say, 'ah look mom she's so cute!'
I suddenly found myself walking faster...and suddenly ....tears. Not just a few trickling down my face....more like a fountain.
I imagine I look a bit like a crazy lady pulling an 'empty' wagon since my sweet little Tessa lays inside and usually ends up asleep by the second mile. That part doesn't bother me...I've grown so used to funny looks and curious eyes. But little girls....goodness...on just the right day, at just the right time, I turn into a waterworks mess.
I felt better. Crying feels good. And when I get around to doing it, it always makes me wonder why it's been so long since the last time.
Maybe the purge of emotion was healthy and necessary.
Tonight, I took a walk. A couple miles. Usually it's just me and the kids. Rarely ever do I pass anyone on our route. It's very peaceful and just the way I like it.
Tonight I took Tessa in the wagon and tonight I had to share the road. A sweet little family with two girls...one on a tricycle and one riding a scooter. The one on the tricycle seemed pretty young...maybe 2, maybe 3. It's funny how when it's a little girl, I seem to lose all ability to guess her age. Tonight, my mind went to an immediate comparison. I quickly transitioned from trying to guess her age....to imagining Tessa riding that little tricycle. The little girl's dad was hollering from behind for her to 'slow down and scoot over'....making way for the crazy lady pulling an empty wagon??....
Next came her sister, riding her scooter...just tall enough to look inside the wagon as she passed, to say, 'ah look mom she's so cute!'
I suddenly found myself walking faster...and suddenly ....tears. Not just a few trickling down my face....more like a fountain.
I imagine I look a bit like a crazy lady pulling an 'empty' wagon since my sweet little Tessa lays inside and usually ends up asleep by the second mile. That part doesn't bother me...I've grown so used to funny looks and curious eyes. But little girls....goodness...on just the right day, at just the right time, I turn into a waterworks mess.
I felt better. Crying feels good. And when I get around to doing it, it always makes me wonder why it's been so long since the last time.
Maybe the purge of emotion was healthy and necessary.
~Whitney
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