The Lullaby

When we remember those sweet, soft lullabys from our childhood, the ones that sang us to sleep and into a world of endless dreams and possibilities... we always remember the cooing words of our mothers.

When we grow up we may wonder where these magical songs may have gone, but they are still here… you just have to listen more closely to hear them.

The lullaby now that hums in my ear are not words to a song, but the beating of his heart.

The beating, that at times feels like it is coming from my own chest. I lay there, listening quietly to his heart and letting it softly beat mine to sleep.

In my dreams I still hear his heartbeat. The steady sound that lets me know I’m still in this world. The beating almost becomes the pulse running through me.

As I open my eyes to a new day, his heart is still laying there next to mine. As I wake and continue throughout the day, his heart beat becomes my embrace, never leaving my mind.

The night is never far away and as the sleepiness encroaches, I wait for my lullaby.

No matter the age, and no matter how far away the memory of love may be, his lullaby is still there… softly beating me back to sleep

Moving forward and cutting the strings

We all say that we want freedom and independence… that is until we actually get it. There is something frightening in having your own destiny put in the palm of your hand. No longer are you relying on the other, or waiting around for everyone else to get it right. Now all of a sudden it’s all you and you’ve never been more scared. Looking back now at past decisions and mistakes made along the way, I have to think to myself, which hurts more, the broken heart or the aftermath it leaves behind. With a band-aid for the soul, broken hearts heal with time, but it seems that the remnants of that past love are like jagged pieces of glass that continue to nick you only to remind you of the pain, especially just when you think that you’ve moved on. It may only be the smallest of cuts, but it reminds you each time you move and feel the pain that that love existed and now it is only a distant memory; a thought of what used to be and what can never be again. With scissors in your hand and the ability to leave it all behind with a simple snip of the ties holding you back, it seems as though this is the moment we hesitate. We stand in the middle of what has been and what can be and the thought of standing still and not moving at all is almost more comforting that choosing a direction in which to go.

This very moment is what defines who we are at the very core of our being. At this moment there is no one else to lean on and your two feet are finally standing strong beneath you

Was it ever Love?

Was it ever love?
After a relationship we always look back at what has been and reminisce, wondering if things could ever be different. We wonder if it was how long that place in our hearts will be sore, if it was real, and in the hardest of times, if it was love at all. When we are in the middle of a relationship, it is like being caught in a hurricane. With the winds and thunder, it is hard to even see the outside world and therefore we relent and believe that there is nothing better and that this is how love is. When the hurricane starts to disintegrate however, our eyes fall upon a new world full of possibilities and it makes us question the feelings we used to swear by.

When I sit down at night and think of him, I am plagued by so many thoughts. I have the current frustration and anger and then there is the hint of sadness that maybe it wasn’t even love but only an affection that was blind.