House full of boxes

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There is a small child inside of me who can’t stand  the sight of packed boxes, only to be outdone by the emptiness of a colorless structure that is supposed to be a home. Today this thirty year old woman crumbled, I walked into the kitchen after hours of being on the porch (to stay out-of-the-way) and was hit by the unexpected anxiety and fear.

The adult in me is excited and thrilled about this move, the child is terrified and some where in the middle is the truth. One day moving will not be tied to my past, one day I will know that I have worked hard to make my life a stable place, one day I will love myself enough to be kind when I see that small child staring back at me, afraid.

But today I am still shaken, afraid that she is here. Today I am disappointed that I am not stronger, today it is hard to remember how to be kind, to myself, my husband and that small child.

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One response »

  1. You are strong, my dear. Strong enough to admit that it hurts, that it’s scary, that the familiar sight of moving boxes and empty rooms resonates inside you in that place where “home” wasn’t a place you could count on year after year. Tomorrow, the excitement of the new place will bring new hope, new strength, new joy. Remember my heart is with you.

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