Dear bloggie friends:

Thanks for all your lovely, encouraging and kind comments! I've been feeling a little better, since my parents and little brother covered for me and gave me the weekend off to recover. And my hubby took the girls out on Saturday afternoon so I could sleep. Which I did. Almost.

See, I closed all the windows, the door to the bathroom and the room so it was pitch black and cool. It was nice and cool, silent, dark. I had my two bottles of water, my propoleum, eucalyptus and honey syrup, and had changed into slacks and one of my hubby's t-shirts. In a word, I was comfortable. I lay down for an afternoon of rest and restoration.

Ten minutes later I could not sleep. That's not too much, but you see, I had not slept well the night before, and as a general rule, I've a gift for falling asleep almost as soon as my head touches the pillow. Or car back seat. Or my cupped hands under my chin.

And you know why was that? I'm almost never home without my husband or my girls. It felt weird, off. I felt so anxious, like something vital was missing. And I was by no means alien to living alone, cause I had lived a hundred miles from my family, by myself, for the duration university studies. Suddenly the realization kicked in. I was that girl no longer.

I'm gonna probably anger many so called feminist (a term they absolutely do NOT deserve, but that's subject for another post) but I felt for a moment that I had become defined by my status unto others: a mother because of my girls, a wife because of my husband. And in the absence of them, who was I? What was I?

It was a scary minute. Sans those labels, the ones I had dreamed about since I was a girl (well, after I decided not to be a nun after all, at the wise and mature age of six) what was I?

Come to think of it, I had a huge bunch of other labels that I'd come by all the choices I'd made in my life. But this particular two were playing with my not so sharp wit at the moment.

There should be a choir chord that came along with the "a-ha!" moment. Some light other than the one lighting up inside the heart. The moment when you realize you really are no longer 13 but 31, even if you always claim you never feel a day older than your teens.

I've grown, I've changed. My allegiances changed as did my heart. And that's good. Now, since I was not sensible enough to realize just how deep the changes were, I have the chore of learning to get to know myself, really know myself. That I spent doing all Sunday. And it was refreshing.

Then again, it might all be the result of a feverish mind. But I seriously doubt so. Basically I'm the same girl, minus the saccharine. A tad more of molasses instead. No additives. No embellishments.

I think I like the woman I found.

And I still love my Anne books and my vampire stories. And yarn!

How did you realize you had become grownup?
Have you?

Yours

CT

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