There are places I remember…

Everybody that knows me IRL jokes that I move too much. It is true, in the almost nine years that I have been here; I’ve lived in 6 different places. I remembered each one of them, the happy and sad days in each one of them and how each time I closed the door behind me without looking back carrying with the lessons learned. Now I am getting ready to move yet again. The thought is daunting, especially with a very busy 15 month old girl, especially as the only grown up (don’t worry, I have help lined up but it is still overwhelming). This time is different in many ways. I am downsizing, leaving behind not only furniture, but memories, a whole way of being, 12 years of a way of thinking and feeling. The cleaning process is both painful but necessary. I had hidden stuff under the bed, in boxes, in the corners of my brain, but now they are coming out from their hidden places and I know I need to let them go once for all. I am shading layers as I pack way my new life, single handed holding on to what matters the most. I can’t sleep lately; each piece that I find around the house wakes up memories, that than turn into dreams, nightmares, they open up Pandora boxes, songs that play over and over again, questions without answer. I know this process in necessary. I’ve done in before, but not alone. You know what I mean, I am not alone because I have Lyla, but I can’t share this load with her, I am trying to protect her from it instead. I remember when I packed to move to my 5th place, a few moths after I had my m/c . I remember finding a box with the positive pregnancy test, the blanket that I bought, the u/s… I had hidden those too. I found them and I broke down because I knew that somebody was there to lift me up, to allow me to be vulnerable. That is no longer an option, I can’t break down, but I am vulnerable anyway. The hardest thing was to opened up the box with lyla’s baby clothes, the one she came from the hospital with, the ones she wore the first months. That smell, oh that smell, reminded of the sweetest times. I got drunk on her baby smell, it brought back the memories of the very few months that I felt happy, complete and at peace; not worried about TTC, not worried about the pregnancy, not worried if he was going to leave or not, not worried how I was going to survive after he left, not worried about the future,… just happy to have the family I’ve always dreamed of. I sobbed until I soaked her little pink pj and I put it back where it belongs, in the past. I held Lyla and I got drunk again with the smell of the present, the sweet reality that I am a mother after all, the promise that love will find its way back to my life, the knowledge that time will heal all things eventually. We will have a place that is our own, smaller but with less baggage to carry in my back. One more ttimeI will close the door behind me and I will NOT look back, but again I will carry with me the lessons learned and my sweet sweet girl...