I literally have enough clothing to fill three womens closets to overflowing. It's ridiculous. Worse than that, it's selfish!
Why am I still a collector of so much "stuff". I could understand it when I was single and trying to fill the holes that being alone left in my life. But why now? I have a devoted, kind husband who is my warmth and security...well, on my lucid days. He's easy, and fun, to live with. We haven't "coupled" to the degree I dreamed of when we first married, but we have grown to be a part of one another. Somewhere there is a small thing I wrote that I titled, "The Forest and the Sea" which describes us about as well as I can. I think it's in the book Chandi had made of the "blogs" I wrote years ago. Anyway...
Alone. I have two sons who are alone. I can't stand it. I want to be angry with someone about it. Sometimes I am angry at myself. Sometimes I am angry with God. I have never been angry with them, or at them. Mostly, I am just incredibly, indelibly sad. I ache for their lonliness. I ache for the woman that they would have cared for, protected, provided for, and shared a rich, full life with. I ache for the children that they would have gleefully played with, patiently taught, and fiercely loved.
I'm finished here. This is becoming way too personal for a public space,
