The Mirror

By: Just myself
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If I looked deeply into a clear mirror, what would I see?

Would I see the surface, the silver grey hair in the cut I am not so very fond of?

Would I see the tired blue eyes that seem to have lost their spark?

Would I see the rolls and imperfections, as a result of the abuse and comfort choices?

Would I see a harried person rushing from job to job, not quite put together, but mostly presentable for the day?

If I looked in the mirror would I see the million disappointments and sorrows piled on to one another?

Would I see the slipping mask that tries to hide it all?

Would I see the confusion of how what I envisioned and hoped, and fought for for my life, and the actual true reality of it are not in alignment?

Would I see the bitterness and pain of betrayal, of broken dreams, harsh words and unmet expectations?

Would I see a glimmer of hope for what is left in my ever shortening life line?

Would I see truth of character, of caring and kindness, angry and disappointed, or a bitchy tired grouch?

Would I see the desperation of the woman that still wants to be desired, loved, taken care of, safe?

Would I see the loving mom trying to help her children get ready for launching into the world?

Would I see confusion of how to be of value and worth as the years take a toll on the body and that youthful beauty fades away?

Would I see a survivor crawling up out of the depths, dirty, bruised, broken?

Would I see a fighter in battle, fighting off there old beliefs about themselves?

Would I see truth, love, compassion or disgust, disappointment and failings?

Would I see the sin of my poor choices and desperation glaring ugly in my face? Or the Savior in His Glory reflecting back?

If I looked deeply into the mirror what would I see?

Next Chapter Please

By: Just myself
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I love the thought of January 1st. New year, new chapter, fresh new start. Seems brand new, CLEAN unblemished somehow. Like early morning after a fresh snow fall, when the air is clear and the birds are still sleeping and the world is brand new, not a track, not a blemish. The moment you step outside and the cold hits you in the face, awaking wonder. As you walk the snow crunching under your feet, making a new trail, a new memory, in the new day. Creating, seeing, feeling, living, loving, shining. An illusion of newness! Hope bursts out, possibilities, dreams, goals. This chapter, this year, this month, this day: living in this moment, this place this time, tomorrow seems so far away.

Slowing down, a boy, a girl, a beagle and a truck

By: Just myself
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Pressures build, there is always something to do, and often it can become overwhelming and exhausting. Crack under the pressure? -OR- Escape to the back roads?

A change of scenery, a bit of nature, the beauty of the Ontario bush, a few stops for some soft exercise, adult conversation. The world no longer feels so heavy.

Heading into Monday back on track!

Will the ending be beautiful?

By: Just myself
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last day of the tulip

When one invisions the moving of time in their lives, one imagines beautiful things.

How hard, when what is supposed to be beautiful, gets twisted and shaded.

When the pain comes and all one wants is mercy and relief.

When thoughts repeat, louder and louder, till one has no choice than to respond.

The facade is blown.

Betrayal.

This is just a chapter though.

Will the ending be beautiful?

The Canadian Affect

By: Just myself
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You may be Canadian if the first warm sunny day of March can totally change your mood, and lift you up out of the doldrums of life.

Yesterday was it! A game changing day. A day were the temperatures soared to +6C, the snow was melting, the sun was shining, the air was fresh.

The pure pleasure of hard work in the sunshine, with just a sweater on left me sore, but satisfied. Sleep was sounder last night, energy is greater today.

Who could of foretold of the impact that one day of warm sunshine could have.

An almost perfect day. Warm, no bugs.

Now to get through the season of ice and puddles.

Today promises to be warmer than yesterday and sunny mostly. It isn’t even supposed to freeze up overnight. Of course I never count on what the weatherman says, they get payed even when they are completely wrong.

I feel like a race horse at the starting line on days like this, our business relies heavily on good weather and we have had a late cold snap recently. So off I go to work hard, to soak up the sweet rays of promise of renewal and growth, and bask in the glory of spring being in the air!

William Roy Davidson Nov.17,1948-Apr.30,1984

By: Just myself
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This fading old blurry photo is a picture of my Dad, in the back, and my grandpa, in the front.

Funny how without fail after all these years, I still remember my dad’s birthday.

It usually starts off as a few days of unexplained irritability (not so much now), then the morning of, I am like, yep today my dad would have been … whatever the number is for that year.

The impact of loosing my dad at the age of twelve has been lasting and damaging. Well maybe molding and stretching is a better way of expressing it.

You see my life changed drastically, in the year leading up to his death, and even more so after. Mixed with my own biases and perceptions, it lead to years of grief, pain, loneliness, unworthiness, mistakes, victim-hood…acceptance, healing, growth, and strength.

Although I still have tears in my eyes as I write today, for I miss my dad, my heart tells me that I would not be who I am today if I had not traveled the road of loss and pain.

If he had lived, would it have been an easier road? Maybe, who knows what challenges would have been placed in my path to teach me, stretch me and make me grow. Who knows what I would have missed out on if I had not been wounded and slank away.

So today I remember you Dad. I try hard to remember the fishing and camping trips, birthday parties, transport trailer road trips. Although there the memories are somewhat blurry/faded/old.

But the memories that seem to come most quickly to my mind are:

Being three and trying to follow in your footsteps, which was NOT what was good for me (a story for another day).

And a very late school night expedition to set the timing on a transport truck. Your skill was in great demand so on top of your day job, you helped keep other companies trucks on the road. Even though I didn’t quite make it to the end of the job, I felt important in that moment. I wanted so bad to still follow in your footsteps.

But that path was not the one for me. I had to forge on and make my own footsteps.

Today Dad, I pause and remember you, and although the memories fade, and the pain is a little more numb, you are not forgotten, a piece of you; in my heart, lives on.