My Dearest Friend: Starting Over

My Dearest Friend,

The seasons are changing and ushering in the start of a new school year. The kids are excited for this school year they start in a new home with friends they've known all their lives. These friends they now look upon as brothers and sisters. My children are happy with the turn their lives have taken.

I am a little less than thrilled. But, I am thankful.

The house that I was renting got sold. Frustrated and unable to find anything else affordable, I moved in with a childhood friend of mine. There are now seven of us sharing a three bedroom house. four children and three adults. Once again I am faced with starting over. Once again I am looking at a road stretched out in front of me and I wondering if I am strong enough to walk it alone with the two little ones that I must support.

Once again I am damning my poor life choices.

My thoughts I keep going back to writing. The more stressed I get, the more I want to bury my head in my imagination. After all, that is where you live. Where I hear your laughter. Where your touch still caresses my hair. In my imagination I face impossible odds everyday, and I defeat monsters more hideous than anyone could ever imagine. I write because I feel that it is all I have in this world. I hold on to my writing because in this world full of heartbreak and nonsense, it is the one thing that does make sense to me.

God, in all His mystery, demands that I rely on Him through faith. My writing demands nothing more than for me to take its hand and let it lead me on a wondrous journey.

My sweet, long, missed friend, how I wish you were by my side. I do not miss your council. I do not long for our talks into the early dark hours of morning. No, it is none of that. I simply wish to be able to lay my head on your chest. In the night, when the pain rips through my body and I can not roll over, I pray out that you can hear my cry. I pray that you are in Heaven and you can send a sweet kiss down to me to soften my fears here on Earth. Your mere presence is all I long for now. My body aches for yours in the same way that a child yearns for the safety of his favorite blanket.

I am lucky though. Lucky that I am so loved that people have allowed me to live with them. Lucky that others were willing to help me move my belongings at a moments notice. I am loved. I have often said that for all the wrong I have done in my life, I must have done something right.

For I am loved.

I must go now. Dinner is cooking and the children are getting restless. Their laughter is a different kind of medicine that my soul feeds on. When I close my eyes tonight, I pray that I see your smile in my dreams.

As always,

Me