27 January 2011
The other evening I was out driving, alone.
Dropping off a little friend who had a bad dream while on a sleepover.
Picking up some coins from the BP for the Tooth Fairy.
The streets were near-empty, streetlights picking out familiar spots on my route home.
The train track, the house that sells veges, the corner of my street...
And all of a sudden it hit me.
This is my life.
This is my life!
At home sleeping in their beds are three precious little people I grew inside me.
There's a man who loves me. He's handsome. He has a flash car.
I'm driving his flash car.
There's a house I love and we own it.
This is my life, my wonderful life.
I got a surge of emotion, almost the "first day of term" feeling.
As I stepped out of the car, the night-scents assailed me...
Fresh, damp, sweet, almost tropical.
I breathed them in.
This is my home, this is my life.
Sometimes I forget what I have, the wonder of it.
I get caught up in the nagging and the grumping, the mess and the cleaning.
Most days I get to the end without being thankful, without pausing to count my blessings.
But this is my life.
The life I wished for, prayed for, hoped for and dreamed of.
I go from one end of the day to the other, oblivious to what I have.
The other evening I remembered lonely nights.
I remembered tears and prayers, fears I would always be alone.
These days I long for alone-ness, peace.
But this is what I wanted.
Little people in my life, my very own babies.
And a tall strong man to love me.
Back on my lonely bed I was ignorant of nappies, tantrums, "marital discussions".
I had no knowledge of sibling squabbles, morning breath, puddles on the toilet floor.
The dream I wished for had a rosey glow.
The Prince I dreamed of never complained about the lack of clean undies.
The children in my dreams were newborn-sweet, cuddled in my arms.
They never complained about "nachos again" or made a fuss about broccoli.
This is my life.
This is my dream. And my reality.
Every now and then it's good to remember, and give thanks...
I am blessed.
Blessed with dirty socks and endless laundry piles.
Blessed with grubby faces and stinky shoes.
Blessed with arms wrapped around me, voices chiming, "My mama!" "No, my mama!"
Blessed with whispers, "I love you mummy!"
Blessed with notes, "You're one hot mummer!"
Blessed with morning breath, blanket tussles, neck rubs.
Thank you. Thank you that this is my Real Life.