Your Inner Kid

I never get tired of seeing kids playing in the mud. See mud piles are the one thing I make

best! It is the one recipe I can’t mess up! Personally I think they even look good. And it is so refreshing to see how a child can be so content making them over and over again. They can dump them over and over again without feeling stress. Adults freak out over a pie spilling and yell nasty words. Why aren’t we more like kids?

Remember the days when making an apple pie only involved picking the apples from the tree?  Wow, the work was done by somebody else. I think we should still do that. Find one of those women on Facebook who loves posting all the recipes and lives to bake. Pick apples to our hearts delight and leave a note that says “You don’t need to thank me, just bake me!”  And don’t forget to leave your address!

Ice cream and watermelon, even as an adult we are allowed to enjoy both but not with the same gusto. We would be laughed at for spitting seeds and having contests for seeing who can spit them the farthest. Such a shame when the cost of competitiveness is nothing I do not remember one fist fight, snarly word or any bullying over watermelon seed spitting. And somehow I think if I suggested it to my female friends they would think my slice had been soaking in alcohol. And when the ice cream truck comes by, I miss screaming. I am not afraid to admit I love it and why not shout about it?  Repression is a bad thing.

The fascination with bugs, clouds, outer space and wild animals seems to fade. Why? The wonders of nature should hold our fascination always.  God’s miracles are reminders we are not in control and something is much bigger than us that is good and beautiful. For some reason we get colored and start seeing the world more musty instead of in living color. This is something that should never be lost.

Does society force you to fit in to some norm of what an adult is when in God’s eyes we are all his children? If you lived only one day, would you be concerned if the actions you took were mature enough to fit adult norms or would you just let go of expected standards and have fun?    I hope that the answer is you would seek the freedom to let your inner child shine through.

The reality is there is a way to balance being an adult and still allow your childhood to be an active part of your life. Joy is ingrained in freedom to be you and not be so caught up in fitting in and losing the ability to express yourself and discovery. You can set the stage for others to follow. If they don’t, let them wonder why you are different and live in their straight jacket of conformity of adulthood. You were, perhaps, born to make mud pies, like me!   

Porch Time

It seems like yesterday, poof!  I was out on the street playing kickball with my friends. We would finish and run up the front step porch of someone’s house and be handed

Popsicles and feel like the luckiest kids in the world. We would see parents up and down the street peeking out windows while they were busy doing whatever adults do, making sure we were staying out of trouble. Then there were the older ones, aged, who would sit on the porch smiling with not a care in the world either, watching us. Back in those days, trouble was not playing breaking rules in kick ball, fighting over whether a ball was out or if a kid got hurt.  Life was easy as we played out there in the street. We had a whole lifetime ahead of us. In those days, we didn’t even think about it. Nothing seemed impossible.

I remember sitting on the roof top, in a few years later, as my dad fixed the antennae on weekend mornings.  In those days, there was no cable, no digital internet, just a big old tower hooked to our house.  The easiest way to the roof was through my bedroom window so I often went out there with him. What a view of the street from up there. I would sit on the shingles and get a bird’s eye view of the street while he worked away.

 I remember the day I was in my pajamas and pink curlers and accidentally closed the window!  It was locked when closed and no one heard me knocking from inside. I was stuck out there for hours!  In fear someone would see me, I hid on the backside of the roof. Three guys my age lived across the street, I was petrified that would catch a glimpse of me in my not so cool looking pjs.   My dad found it funny and was right, I had two choices, deal with it or take the 8 foot jump!  

Gone are those days of me being the one in the street, me being the one on the roof. Now I am the one on the porch.  I am not the one you would catch on a roof top either. My balance is not so great that I would feel safe up there that high anymore. I even wonder now, looking back, how my dad withstood that height and the heat so many times those days. I can swim laps and ride a bike but running around bases playing kickball would certainly lead me to serious joint pain!

Initially, it was a sad realization I am getting old and that I will never again be the one playing in the street.  I can’t play be the one playing kickball.  I won’t ever again have a future that is a blank slate.  None of us older do. But, with that said, a lifetime comes with all the turbulence, all the choices, decisions, hurdles, and sacrifices one has to make. The heart breaks a thousand times over as the years create opportunities for people to come and go in your life.  Joy and heartbreak also.

I remember learning about a dear friend Michelle Bell I grew up with dying, in her forties.  When she died, I remembered the times we spent at the park simply swinging as kids, riding in her first car (a Javelin, with a muffler tied up with a coat hanger!) , and sewing halter tops and switching tops because we wore the same size. All the silly simplest times became so much more meaningful when she was suddenly gone.  And then it seemed like 10 years was one week and then another close high school friend,  James Green,  was gone suddenly.  He had been on the waiting list for a kidney but that wasn’t even what killed him, it was a freak fall where he hit his head and didn’t recover. And there I was sitting at his funeral remembering all our notes, all our walks and talks and fast forward, we were adults and would have no more memories to share.

Not everyone you care about will be there till the end of your time. I have some dear ones that have fallen by the wayside, some from death, and some by choice, theirs or mine.   Life is like that, change is inevitable. Kickball is unpredictable too but it sure doesn’t seem so heart-breaking.  In life, you will be judged, evaluated and make a difference in some lives and in others, nothing you do will make a dent in their persona.  In kickball, it was way easier to make a difference with the kids you played with on a team. We all just wanted to get along and have success together. Don’t you wish your life had worked out so simply?

The freedom of aging and some of the peace is in knowing that you have made your path. You have lived. You have created your own unique journey that no one else can quite replicate. In one sense it does remind me of those days gone by, as a kid, you were the only one in the street that looked just like you.  And now, currently, aged, if you are like

me, sitting on the porch, you have a story to tell that is unlike anyone else’s.  It doesn’t matter, at the end of the day, whether anyone believes all of it or not,  or even hears it, you have lived it and you know it by heart. God shared in every piece of it. The reality of you and your memories are the moments that took you around the bases of your life to lead you right to where you are, now, sitting on the porch, looking back. Rest easy in the rocker. 

As I reflect on my life, I realize my blessings.  Mistakes and successes, but through it all, I survived. If you focus on those that judge you for all you did not become, did not achieve or what they expected of you,  you are left forgetting who you are and what you were given in God’s Master Plan. Create your own vision of the world and of yourself.  Aging truly has its rewards when you empower yourself to let yourself go and just be you, be real.

You made it, you got the hard work done and got the privilege of sitting on the porch.  You get to watch the game of kickball and watch others run around the bases.  Enjoy the view and reflect on the path you took to get there.  You made the circle back home.

Looking Back at the Earliest Days - Daughter's Birthday

My daughter and I are nothing alike.  She is headstrong, outspoken and a true extrovert. She is driven, passionate and has a real command of

communication skills that she can use to her advantage in almost any situation good or bad. And so today, her birthday, it seems fitting that I would take a moment to write a memories of the early days as a small child of how this personality first exhibited itself to the world.  You can judge for yourself how easy or difficult it was to be a young mom to this precious lady. Do know, without a doubt, I was never short of moments of unexpected laughter!

As a toddler, my little girl enjoyed masterminding new tricks.  She quickly learned how to jump out of her crib by using the mattress as springboard. She also knew it upset me to no end so learned to climb back into as soon as she heard my steps coming down the hallway. To make matters even worse, she hated dirty diapers as much as me. So, prior to potty training, baby girl took to removing them anywhere and everywhere! How did I know this? I would turn around after yelling at her seeing her mess with her diaper telling her to not take it off and there she would be walking in it. However, the dead giveaway was she was walking leaning sideways; kind off cockeyed as she never quite mastered getting her legs in the right holes so was trying to keep it upright on her hips.

My little girl was frequently ill, just a multitude of health issues from Day I. Going to the pediatrician was often on the to do list.  And she could be a handful in the itty bitty room with not much for her to do besides open every drawer, find the trash can, flip the lights, roll on the floor, turn the sink on, until I got tired of listening to myself say no and threatened her with bodily harm. By the time the doctor walked in, she would promptly tell him, when he apologized for being long, “I was good or Mommy would beat my butt.” That was Christina, not mincing words or holding back.

Then there was the time we arrived at Vacation Bible School late. The church’s hall was very quiet as classes had already started. Most of the nuns were busy except for the one performing check in. She approached and I apologized for being late. I said I got delayed by a phone call. My daughter jumped in to correct me loudly so everyone in the hall heard “No, it was because my brother said a bad word and needed to get soap in his mouth.”  All eyes in the hall were on us and I could feel my son falling back behind my legs.  Christina did not always have a filter, lol!

As I took her shopping, so many times things came out unexpected that I began to be well-versed at coming up with responses back to strangers. I also learned to get the hell out of lines quickly. Her voice projected well like mine. There were the times she asked me things like “Why does that person ahead of us smell so bad?” or “Mister, why are you staring at me? Don’t you know that is rude?”  Or getting to the front of the register and asking for me to buy her candy. I would say no and she would say with annoyance “You promised if I was good you would buy me candy, I was good. You lied Mommy!” I could feel all eyes staring at me like I was the worst mother of the year. 

Even when it came to eating, my daughter could outsmart me. The rules were that if you didn’t eat the main course there were no deserts or treats, like cookies. I wasn’t good, initially, at checking to see if she stashed food away, assuming if her plate was empty, she ate it so praising her.

Over a period of about 6 months, she got rid of food in so many ways, eating up praise left and right. Before being potty-trained, I would find food stuffed in her diaper from dinner! She would put food bites in the bottom of her juice cup. She had hand signals for the dog under the table and would feed it to him. No wonder the dog loved her!  I suppose, one day, I gave up. No treats right after dinner because her ingenuity was just too creative. 

Many parents believe in Time Out. It was even popular back when she was a youngster. But it was a useless proposition at my house with my little girl. About the time I would tell her she could come out of it, she would tell me she would prefer to stay in it! Her communication skills were always extremely advanced for her age. So even if company was over, she’d say things when time was up for time out, “I am enjoying using my imagination, I think I will sit here a bit longer but thank you anyways.”   And sit she would until I had to make her get up!

Answering the telephone became something she enjoyed from the moment she could start putting sentences together, about 2 1/2 years old. Even then, her speed was incredible. She could beat almost all of us to the phone if she had a running start, though she was always the shortest in the house.  It was quite comical to hear someone so tiny give complete answers in sentence structure and hear their reaction on the other end of the phone! When the call was for her dad and he was working, she gave the funniest answers. My favorites she came up with were: “Daddy working. He’s making money to buy me shoes.” And this classic, “Daddy’s gone.  He doesn’t want to talk to you now.”  Guess they got the message from her! 

Nobody, but nobody loved Snicker bars like my girl!  And yet, due to migraines induced by nuts, they were a serious No No for her! So, somehow she sneaked them. How did I know?  Well, in cleaning her room and pulling out her bed one day, I discovered a stash of snicker wrappers under her bed.  After this repeatedly happening, she got wiser! She then began squishing them between that space in the wall and the side of the bed it lays up against.   All of this was going on in the lower grades and to this day, I have no idea who was feeding my kid candy bars and in that quantity. But she was probably outsmarting them like she did me to get them!  And there is a part of me that admires her ingenuity for doing such a damn good job at doing it! At times, there were so many of those candy wrappers, it was like a child addicted to them who needed to go to Snickers Anonymous. 

That fact that someone this small could pull one over on me so many times and create so much material is astounding when you think about it!  Seriously, I was a single mom with a dual degree, well-read and written.  I am outspoken, passionate, driven and headstrong, nothing like her! No way a little twerp like that could get the best of me, but she did, many times!  And through it all, I knew that one day she would grow up and make something of herself. And in spite of the highs and lows of raising her, I am proud to say, she has.  She brought me tears, nights of fears, laughter, heartbreak and some of the best moments of my life. And today, on her birthday, I remember a little girl who changed the world with her wit, charm and uniqueness.  And yes, life was never the same, nor will it ever be, 37 years later. 

Ashley's Time

There is a time for everything in life.  Like the cycles of the seasons, things in our life have a way of cycling around, like the development of childhood to teen-age years to the golden ages.   Things change and yet, the general rhythm of it stays the same. Life is funny that way.

Today is my youngest sister’s birthday.  I can still recall sharing a bedroom with her when she was just a baby. I was in about the sixth grade. I would be awoken by sounds of her either crying or cooing. Her crib was on one wall and my bed was on another wall.  She eventually learned how to stand up, peek over the headboard of her crib and stare at me. Something about that cute little baby girl staring at me made it hard to sleep. But also made me fall in love with her.  She had the darkest brown eyes with the cutest smile and spoke so cute when she began speaking. She, naturally, had the happiest disposition of all the babies I had known, when she was feeling good. I was the big sister, not the mother, thus I never had to deal with the hard stuff, doctor visits, feedings, cranky periods, discipline, teaching sharing,etc.  I just got the joys of playtime and could walk away whenever I wanted to.

Over the years, I saw my sister grow up. Many of those years, it was from afar, in some regards.  Our age gap was about 12 years.   I became a young mom myself so moved away when my sister was still quite young.   I still recall hearing her giggling at my first wedding. I am not sure if that is because she thought the marriage wouldn't last or she thought the idea of me being married was just plain silly.  Kids are brutally honest.   I think it was just her way of having a good time there; she was a happy girl in a pretty dress. 

Once my son was born, my sister, age 8, said she was the youngest aunt among her friends.  Not long after, my sister turned 10 and became an aunt again to a cute baby niece. My little baby girl was going to follow the same path of life I had watched play out with my younger sister.   Now, I was the one doing all the things I had recalled occurring when I was, years ago, lapsing in and out of my sister’s existence. I was taking the baby girl to the doctor, doing her night feedings, dealing with emotional little girl’s feelings.   I never remembered my sister being this emotional, but then again, from a young girls standpoint, things always look quite  different, especially when you don’t have the responsibility of another’s life in your hands.  But, the experience of it all, motherhood, I would not trade it for any other in the world.

It became so ironic at times to have a sister growing up and a daughter, just about ten years apart.  And in reality, so was I, growing and maturely, right there alongside of them.  My sister was so open and honest with me as her life unfolded with the various ups and downs. She appreciated my input, asked for it often and we laughed frequently over the stuff of life.

My youngest sister's wonderful family

My own daughter rejected my opinions.  She hated my line, "My goal in your life is not to be your best friend. Equally I heard,“Get a life” often than not during her formidable years.  When I began to listen was when I got divorced again.   Maybe she will realize, if she reads this, moms sometimes do actually listen to their teen age daughters for advice, even though it may not be intended that way.  I saw something in my daughter and in my sister that I had seen in myself years ago and I wanted back. That sparkle in their eyes, and I did find it.

The irony, at the time was having two young women in my life so very important to me that I loved, one who wanted me in their life and another who wanted me, most days,  to drop off a cliff and not be found until she turned 18.    Both provided me with so much laughter, learning lessons and memories to last a lifetime.  Both also provided me with glimpses of myself as I watched them grow and develop.

It seems like yesterday that my sister had a baby boy.  Her son was a total delight and to this day is one of the greatest joys in my life. There is something about him that just touches my heart strings in a way I truly can’t put into words. He was a small boy full of energy and magical charm. As my husband says to me, there is something about him that makes you love him as much as if he was your own.  He has a beautiful soul for a young man.   

Another child soon followed for my sister, after her son, with the same age gap as my children. Amazing how time changes but some things don’t. Our kids had the same age span and the same gender line up.  This daughter proved to be as challenging as mine.  Daughters, second born anyways, are not submissive personalities, in general.  But, they are, in our family anyways, driven to success, high achievers and have a will that is unbreakable. I am as proud of her as I am of my sister, my daughter and myself, all second born.

 It must be that my sister had even more love to give because she had another darling to bring into the world.  This last daughter, is the one that truly shows me the meaning of the circle of life. She also epitomizes all that is good in a family, wrapped up in one small child.

And thus began the life cycle of the youngest one in my youngest sister’s clan, the little baby girl who had big eyes, loved to coo and smile. This little girl has the temperament I remember her mommy having, from my perspective of the early days.  She is exceptional, her persona is just precious. She is graced with refreshing calmness, no pretense about her.  Always able to have a kind word for others, especially those in need, she was born with a kind soul beyond her years. She is like a breath of fresh air; refreshing and undaunted by the polluted air that surrounds her.   All the positive traits of the family were somehow rolled into one person, this little girl, without her knowledge. As she grows and develops over the seasons she may one day take the world by storm.  I watch for the flickers of reminders of my past; my sister’s and my daughter’s but know her path is a special one.

 

A cycle begins and continues. I am once more watching a girl develop, from afar.  When I see her, my niece, I am awe struck by some of her perfection at such a young age.  When I hear her voice on the phone, I am moved by her eagerness to engage.  When I see her face in pictures, I smile at how she lights up the screen with her willingness to embrace the world. 

Today, on my youngest sister’s birthday, I can’t help but reminisce.  All those years ago, there was this little head of long dark hair on this tiny baby girl. As I tried to sleep  I would wake up to hearing chattering in her bed. She was intent on getting my attention. I remember the times when I would have her out in public as a teenager and she would embarrass me by telling strangers I was her mother.  She was a character and knew how to enjoy life.  I see her youngest daughter going through this teasing with both her older siblings and I have to laugh; we all survive.

The little girl I knew grew up to be a beautiful woman.

The similarities of the life cycle for all of us is really more similar than not.  When I put together the attached video below, it was a trip down memory lane. It is, at first glance, a collection of photos of my niece.   But it is also one of all of us, my sister, my daughter and me.  It shows the similarities of us all; I can see periods in all of our lives through her eyes, my niece’s, her smile and her facial expressions.  But if you look close enough, and focus on the innocence of the pictures, it is a picture of everyone’s memory lane. 

These images recall times in life when the innocence was predominate in our eyes.   They show a child who has a joy of just being in the moment, over and over again.   My niece has a beautiful spirit and soul.  This is a blessing she has that I feel goes well beyond her years.  I too believe she is the one child I have met who will retain it.   I pray she is bigger and better than any of us that have come before her. 

May her images remind you of those moments in your life that you hold dear.  May you see in her eyes your times past that seemed fleeting but are actually etched in your memory. Maybe they just need to be pulled from the back of the closet, dusted off and put in a more prominent spot.   Photo albums are good ways to recapture our innocence.  Reminders of our past are like a history lesson, it helps us appreciate who we are and where we came from.   My niece is who she is because of my sister; I see my sister in every picture of her and her father too.

Though seasons change, and you as well, those memories of your growing up years are at the core of who you are and who you will always be.  

Life has so many rich experiences,

     The total collection must be treasured,
Don’t forget the small everyday moments

     Because their value cannot be measured.

Click here to go to Video Link

Kids at Heart

We live in an adult world. We are forced to grow up much too quickly these days and not allowed to enjoy being a child nearly long enough. It makes me glad I was born fifty years ago! This is something I never thought I would find myself saying out loud, much less feel.

In today’s society, children must to go school prior to kindergarten to fit into the norm. It is called preschool I am told. It is essential instructions for attending school and oh, so much more than just how to behave and development of socialization skills. Students, mind you 3, 4 and 5 year old's, are learning numbers, letters and a host of other items my generation learned in kindergarten. My children followed my same path and did not suffer irreparable damage without attending these early education classes. One child grew up to obtain a PhD and the other obtained her Masters. Do I dare admit that neither went into kindergarten knowing their numbers and letters all that well?

When did being a little child stop being just playing all day? Our focus was simply exploring outside, forming friendships and modeling behavior, sometimes behavior our parents didn’t realize they had! I remember the time I saw my daughter, at age 4, disciplining her baby dolls and I realized how critical I was sounding and realized I needed to change up my verbiage! When I took my kids out, it was not to drop them at a school setting but to take them to the lake to feed the ducks bread crumbs, go to the zoo, play at the park, or visit the library. In those days preschool meant pre (before attending) school.

Sports are another area that has dramatically changed and thrown today’s young people into an adult world. All around ball fields can be heard comparisons to popular professional athletes as if these little leaguers stand a chance of being major league ball players. Is that a reasonable goal and the kind of pressure a small child needs put on them at such a tender age?

My neighbor and I were discussing this recently as he is the head of a sports program in the area for children. As such, he sees a great deal of parents and coaches of all types. The ones that stand out the most are the ones that believe sports is the end all of their children’s lives. They push their children to the edge to get them to perform, threatening with every means possible to get them too continually to beat the competition, outperform themselves, and stand out from the rest. They show no mercy on the competitor even though the competitor is a child. They argue with other parents as if the game on the line matters, as if the winning or losing involves millions of dollars of endorsement deals for the winners. As Jim told me “They push the kids too hard and yell at the kids and each other. The screaming can be unrelenting; some are thrown out of the game, the parents, not the kids!”

Sports are not basic training. It is not adult training for life. It is organized play time for kids. Soon enough they will be in upper grades and sports becomes highly competitive. Until that day comes, why can’t children just play and parents butt out? Sports were created as an extra curriculum activity, a hobby. By definition, it is an outside interest. I think my neighbor has the right attitude, the day his children come to him and say it is no longer fun is the day he will have them quit playing. I am grateful my parents realized, even with my height and good shooting ability, I was never going to be a Harlem Globe Trotter and they just let me play basketball for me.

Kids today are even forced to grow up and not be children when it comes to how they dress. Boys are made to look like little men and the girls are dressed to look like little divas. Just a trip to the local mall can bear out the case that children dress older than they look and this starts at a very young age. In the book Cinderella Ate My Daughter by Peggy Orenstein she repeatedly explores how marketing is branding little girls and young mothers into believing their small children need to begin their lives as little half grown princesses. Whatever happened to just being a little girl, to little bonnets and Pippi Longstocking? I find it humorous that our infants have to be pre-labeled “Drama Queen” today or “Chick Magnet”. Yes it is cute but is it an adult label. Continually calling or labeling children with these kind of messages is programming them to be mini adults at young age. Why not let them grow up naturally? My friends with boys tell me instead of finding clothes for with bugs and bikes on them, these days the clothing has icons of skulls, bones and hard rock instead. Hardly the stuff small boys are into. These boys are not into school yet much less heavy metal!

Maybe, as a society, we need to slow down the growing up process. We are living longer these days so why must we grow up so fast? Perhaps the real lesson in life should be how to retain our youth, how to be a child also so that we can keep our sense of humor, our ability to let loose and just sometimes enjoy the moments. Children need to be encouraged to be children and not continually told to “grow up’ or told every time they act like a child that they are acting like a baby. Kids should not have to be mini adults.

Learning to play hard is as important in the scheme of life as learning to work hard. Both together provide balance, relieve stress and prolong live. Are you getting your regular doses of it, playtime? Are you allowing your children to be kids?

Recently, we hosted a party at our house. A very wise friend of ours, getting up there in years, has never lost his ability to be a child. I suppose, because of that, we have never tired of his companionship nor of his wife’s. He has some physical limitations, hence, he cannot easily participate in physical activities but his mind is as sharp as can be. David sat back and observed and chimed in when he could throughout the evening. When he left, he told me he had written something on a pad of paper by my coffee table for me to read. He said it far better than I and in less words:

“It’s refreshing to see otherwise sober and serious adults behaving like the little kids we still are at heart.”

In closing: Let your children be free at heart to be children.

Missing Puzzle Pieces

Some of us grew up never knowing one of our parents. This is particularly hard on a child when so much of their identity is tied up into their parents. I think this is particularly common in today’s world where divorce is rampant. Often times, a missing parent moves away and the child is left being raised by one parent. If the divorce is ugly, which most are, the impression children get of the missing parent is often negative, distorted by a relationship that went sour.

Negative comments made about one’s natural parents are hurtful to children. It makes them feel as if they are somehow not quite right themselves. They are innately associated with both parents in their minds and in their genes. This connection, this bond, only serves to create confusion and frustration in a child’s mind when one is out of the picture of their lives. It is particularly hard when they are bombarded with negative degrading comments about the missing parent.

Over the years, I have met so many adults who, once on their own, have reconnected with a missing parent. What they find, after many years, is their parent is not perfect by any means, but usually is one who never stopped loving them. Knowing this, that love was present in the heart of absent parent makes a huge difference. Knowing too that days went by with the missing child on their mind is soothing to the soul of the adult child. Even if the absent parent has issues, as we all do, it is still a completed circle to many adults to reconnect to their biological roots.

I recently reconnected with my mother. I have not seen her since I was thirteen years old on a brief Saturday visitation day. We still have not had a chance to meet in person again. But, I am grateful, even from afar, for the opportunity to get to know her. We live in different states making visits not easily done. I so enjoy now forming my own opinions of her. Too often in my past, it was based on everyone else’s impressions of her and not my own.

The more we talk, I see many similarities with us, and I hear it in our laughter. Many pieces of me that didn’t quite fit or make sense to me growing up now seem to mesh together quite well as I understand where those traits came from.

No, she will never be the mother many of my friends have, but, she is mine. I am a part of her life now and she is a part of mine. She does love me and she is sorry for all that she was not in my life. For me, yes, I think that is enough. As we are on a journey of discovery, I indeed feel blessed. She has been forgiven and we have moved past the past, as it should be.

May you find it in your heart to forgive those that have deserted you. If it is the right thing to do, in your situation, then perhaps, seek them out, that missing parent. Be open and honest with them too and ask for nothing less from them. May you find, in doing so, there were reasons for their desertion. Don't go into it with high expectations, accept what is as is.

Life is too short to walk around with pieces of the puzzle, the puzzle that is you, missing. It is good to go full circle with your life and put together the missing parts. You are worth it!