And so, the bone-tired weariness begins to wane, so too the anxious lonely missing of Cory because leaving sooner than he’d hoped caused a feeling of great failure as a mother.
But home. Sleep comes. No drugs. Kitty and I patter out to porch coffee in hand, lighting a rose scented candle as a golden quarter orb rises over the horizon. First thinking it was a house light at the edge of the forest on the hill, a crescent moon shone her happy orange-yellow glow.
The male daddy bird chirped from the birdhouse in the dark, much earlier than the other birds, announcing his ownership of the castle with his wife inside on her nest. The peepers in harmony in the distance entering my core soothing like a purring cat upon a lap.
My core, remember that? Touching base with it only momentarily for way too long, anxiety’s roiling keeping me away from it.
Now I know I needed to be home, even if all the other people around me didn’t. Even if it means being a bad mother. Even if letting others down.
It is so extremely uncomfortable advocating for my own needs. My husband and son did not debate my needs. I did. I did for two days after coming home.
But now I know that home is where I need to be. Dreams continue as if still there, working through the unfinished business. Others that met me wondering about my differentness, not knowing of my shattered past.
So naïve to trauma and life’s harsh cruelty, and what it does to someone, making blithe comments that I take home to heal over until realizing they just don’t know.
And hopefully never will. It is not wished upon them. But I know. It is only my own internal self that needs to know and love me though their ignorance. But so hard when in their environment, not mine where mother is nature loving me.
But home. The unusual warm two days, yesterday by the creek in reverie bringing me back into my internal home. Slowly strength and health return.