Skipping past…

I am tired.  I go through my day without owning a single moment just for myself.  When I wake up I have so many things to do on my ‘to do’ list that as soon as my brain starts functioning it must commit to tending to the needs belonging to everyone else but me.  I am a parent so I understand my responsibilities and I’ve never wished I didn’t have them; being a good parent means holding the responsibility – not the lack of complaint about them.  In the small crevices between the moments I sometimes try to remember what it was like when I only had to take care of myself.  If I recall I often resented that responsibility too and in weaker more selfish moments actually failed quite miserably. 

This morning while waiting for my six-year-old to brush her teeth and put her clothes on after the twenty times I already commanded her too, I escaped out to my back deck with my dog.  As I stood there staring out at the power lines and across the corn field, the calls of wild birds from far off in the distance played like a soothing lullaby.  It reminded me of the countless nights my father would sit by my bedside, guitar in hand, and sing his favorite Irish lullabies.  Whatever chaos the day had brought, the sound of his voice smoothed the rough edges of the day into something soft and bearable.  This morning I longed for the sound of his voice to smooth away the my jagged edges  left by the moments that came before that one.  Missing my dad has become bitter-sweet as the memories of him bring comfort and at the same time a stabbing pain in my heart which reminds me that he is gone. 

My stolen moment ended too quickly as my daughter bounded through the back door jolting me back to the reality that my time is not my own.  As I walked back into the house the faint echo of the birds still played inside my head like a scratched cd skipping back to the same place over and over.  Sometimes I feel like a scratched cd because no matter how many times I spin around I seemingly end up back where I started.  Maybe if I just pressed ‘stop’ on the buttons that control my life, the spinning would stop so I could take a soft cloth and wipe away the smudges that are keeping me from moving on, skipping past the scarred parts onto somewhere less painful.

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