My heart on the kitchen counter

Standing at the kitchen counter in my new home, a glass of red wine by my side and the dog at my feet, tears are streaming down my face, and I faintly hear the laughter of my children in the tub. I am trying to patch together the roughly 35 years of my life: my parents, my birth, three, to ten to twenty to thirty four, so hard to grasp all those years and memories, I try to press a little more to think of the time captured in a sepia-reddish photograph taken somewhere in the late seventies early eighties. I can't quite grasp the memory but from the picture I seemed so happy and cluelees, toothless too, with the long red pigtails- a signature even at 5 (or so).

I think to myself, if only I can go back a few months, say my goodbye a little more, held that hug a little longer, said I love you one more time. It has been a whirlwind ride the last few months and although I have accomplished so much in my life, I still feel as if I should have done better. I could have been a better daughter, a better wife, and better friend, but what I have learned is to treasure today, to not let the trivial things get by my side, not to have my time muddled by time mongers who are insufficiant in the appriciation of life.

People often say that stupid line, God only gives you what you can handle, well I have had my share of handling, forgive me, my fair share of "Shit". And as I stand here with those tears and feeling so helpless, what I really want, what I really need is for one special person to walk through that door, just touch my shoulder and wipe my tears away, tell me they can take over for just a moment, and that they love me. They love me more than anything in the world but say it without words with that touch to your face, and arms wrapped so hard around your body you are protected and safe and it is totally ok, to break, to cry.

I hang my head, missing father, sad for my heart,and hear a call to bring me out of my weaknees, "Mommy, does this have the sting in your eyes soap". I have to move on, duty calls, my moment of need has to wait. Maybe one day, I say to myself, wipe my tears, take a huge swig of red wine and close the photo album.