Shadows and Regrets

I used to pound it out, all the fear. One shoe in front of another, running through the misty streets watching the angst steam away with my breath. Taking it all in, Yellowcard blasting in my ears, wind rushing, sun coming up, going down and and the sky always stretching on. I ran through every trouble, each separation. I ran to hold  on to sanity with my love a million miles away, not promised to return and two little boys clinging to me for dear life. Over and over I listened, “This is me afraid”, “Shadows and Regrets” . . . and I held on to a boy and girl in love and all the dreams we dared to see.

Then came disaster and my body torn apart. The steps slowed to a stumble, feeling blessed just to keep two feet firm underneath me. Swaying, carrying the weight of new life in my fearful self I marched slowly on. I gained a child to hold and forgot a few dreams and more than a little of myself along the way. L’Engle says we must forget ourselves in the making but when we lose the little girl who dreamed we are diminished, less than whole.

Now, emotions swirl as my baby grows up. I turn to what I know, quicken the steps of an untrustworthy body and for a few minutes I run again. The melody in my ears, the sun grown long, shadows, regrets . . . but I can feel the life pulsing in my chest, greedily sucking in the air. A smile spreads – I can’t give up, not on one solitary dream, not on my man, not on our love, not on all the romance of this broken world.

The shadows reach long, regrets creep in and pile high, threatening to crowd out the beauty He gives. I haven’t managed to give them all I wish, I haven’t walked the path as well as I would have liked. But this is what I have, light on little shoulders. Spelling lesson in an evening wonderland (in nothin but undies :). Crazy, unbounded life climbing on the table, mad to create. This is enough, always will be and I will forever hold these moments. The dark gives the light its’ purpose, its’ brilliant beauty, its’ power. Scoop up this dappled light, spots of truth and forget all the rest. Our real reality is loveliness no matter what else we have seen. L’Engle, she reminds me of this and that it is no fault of my own that I receive – pure gift is given me. In the light of day our most horrid moments will make sense in this story we have run and stumbled through. And the moments bathed in light, those are ours to keep forever . . . held safe in His hands. He does the holding, I’m to let go . . .

Fingers laced with my love, lying in his arms I am whole enough to let go a bit more . . . and we run on dreaming

“When we were only kids

And we were best of friends

And we hoped for the best

And let go of the rest

The shadows and regrets

We let go of the rest”

– Yellowcard

4-12 . 85mm . LR + VSCO . evening window light