Almost Home...

Analytics show me that from May 29, 2013 until July 4, 2016 my blog averaged a total of two views, yet still I wrote without much care in the world about who was receiving the messages which were being placed within this space. I told myself that I would write and as I often add, I'm surprised I've written this long and shared a bit of what I've captured over the years.

Like my writing, I too have grown in stature and maturity; I feel as though this is the year in which I've returned back to center. I'm definitely not one to make resolutions but there were many seasons in which I was told I failed to follow through with promises which I made to others. IF you're reading this just remember that it's difficult to carry your weight and that of another and there will come time for you to choose if you should continue to sink or swim. Please remember that one can be the strongest swimmer yet still drown.

Today, my father phoned me in order to tell me that he had stumbled upon some old letters, pictures, and books from years gone by; he was actually saying, "I'm going to throw this stuff out if you no longer have use for any of it". After hearing of these forgotten treasures, I told him that I would come by and sift through a bit of my history. I'm not going to lie, I was a bit nervous and excited driving to my parents house.

These days, for some reason, I drive up to my parent's place bumpin' music in the Prius and my dad always gives me this look of surprise, when I pull up, as if to say, "Whose kid is this..."? Well, today the pull up was real and the music was blaring!

No sooner had my father raised the garage door, he walked out with four large plastic bags which read, "Son's stuff" and told me that I should probably grab chair because it was going to take me a while to go through it all. I really felt like telling him I'd throw it in the car and go through it at home but there was this look in his eyes which caused me to accept a chair and become present.

I suppose in this day and age, kids are always on the go and I thought it would be apropos to sit for a bit and discover what I'd stored for over two decades. Actually, from the looks of things it was my dad who had packed up my old room and placed everything into Hefty bags for safe keeping. As I opened my first bag, I looked up at my father and he just sat off to the side grinning a bit; I think he knew what was in those bags.

The purpose of this piece isn't to bore you with the details of each bag as much as it is to say that I took a moment to reflect and exercise some past accomplishments and pain. In a few of the bags, I found old notes, like a lot of old notes from a girl I used to be heads over heels for, I also found many pictures of us too. As I looked through the notes and the pictures, I looked at my father and told him, "It's funny to think, I knew what love was back then, shoot even now. I suppose I've used to the word in order to feel a way or look a way. I know what liking is though, Pop, I know what pain is as well". My father being the wise sage he is, just looked at me and replied, "Some like to love and others love to wait. You're in a good place, son."

I sifted through many things and threw away a lot of the pain too but I did both with a smile. At times there's this maturation process which takes place, one moment you're writing notes about loving those around you and saying goodbye and then decades later, you're sitting in front of your dad telling him that something almost broke you at one point in life. Juxtaposition is a funny thing.

I'm almost home, almost to a point where I'm comfortable with resting a bit and looking back at where I've come from, where I've been along this journey. My sun isn't setting as much as it rising and if you're a friend who has been around me for some time, I hope you've witnessed my progression.

My father tells me that there are still more bags to sift through and he's right in more ways than one.

Thank you for making it this far....