we break from strolling to shop downtown for teacher goodies. tuesday is the last day of my sweet girl's first year of pre-school. how do you give enough thanks? thanks to those who made this possible. the special one with the tiny, manila envelope. the one that wouldn't rather be anywhere else than the car line. the ones that stimulate her already-too-smart brain. the one that makes sure she gets lunch, a nap and endless lovin' when i'm at work. the ones that help my daughter grow on the days i'm far too small to do so by myself. the ones that serve as her captivated audience when the harlan show is on. the ones that love us; not just because they have to, but because it somehow makes their world a better place. the ones that revived my life -- our life.
this year, i've been slapped with the reality that if you aren't the one writing your story, who is? everyone else? no one at all? circumstances left me destructed, and while others try to piece me back together, the only way reconstruction is worth the effort is if my beliefs are the foundation.
people and time, both good and bad, come and go -- all that matters in the aftermath is if i'm at peace.
am i?
are you?
one must decide and believe in it before society decides and shouts it out for you. the beauty in that peace is that once you've found it, society's opinion is no longer your business; it's theirs and you mind your own.
so, as my harlan darlin' learns to count to twenty, i'll learn to count my blessings ... not my flaws.
