Through the Years

The candle light dances and flickers across my wall.  Every time I adjust my position of the bed I get a small whiff of the vanilla fragrance, warming the cold dark room.  The large white comforter rustles beneath me as I roll over onto my back in order to more fully belt out the lyrics to the long song playing on my boom box.  Life is lonely, and the lonely lovesick songs make me feel better.  The dancing shadows of the flame ignite the emotions I try to hide within myself throughout the day.  Now is my time to let go; to feel.  I close my eyes and feel the darkness, I smell the vanilla, and I feel the fluff of the down comforter beneath me.  It is only in this moment that I feel alive.  Everything else throughout the day are tasks meant to be completed, a person I am supposed to be, expectations to be met, but here in the darkness, in my solitude, I am me. 

Life is a busy whir around me; always reading, always a paper, always learning.  Although I enjoy school, it wears me thin and I become lost in everything I learn.  The heavy backpack pulls at my back and the knowledge of tests in the near future causes me panic.  I am a well balanced working machine, scheduling out classes, meals, work, homework and even sleep.  I thought I would find myself in my school work, but instead I found how much I lacked, so I push and push. I am a student by day, a tutor in the evening and a wife at night.  I wear several different faces and I am not sure which one is the “real” me.  Yet late at night, when my husband is asleep and I am wrapped in his arms, I close my eyes and feel the darkness.  I feel his love.  I feel me.

If I thought life was busy before, it doesn’t hold a candle to this woman who surprisingly has two little children pulling at her pants and playing at her feet.  My life is a continuation of the day before, always the same thing.  Always tired.  The things I attached myself to earlier in life have changed are either no longer important or have lost value.  It is a struggle to get through each day as I feel I no longer have the support and love of my husband, but I am still here.  I watch my children explore and grow and my heart swells with love, pride and joy despite my circumstances and I know for a fact who I am.  I am mom.  Even in the couple quiet moments to myself, I am still most satisfied when thinking on my children.  I still feel the sorrow and loneliness as I did when a teenager and I still feel like I am nothing more than a machine meant to complete tasks, but now I know who I am.  It keeps me strong when I want to give up and gives me hope of brighter days.  That is why I go out of my way to orchestrate activities.  That is why my entire life and schedule revolve around these two little beings sleeping close to me.  I still find other things to validate my existence and accomplishments, but that is not who I am, only what I can do. I am mom, hear me roar.