frazzled & frumpy

(I originally wrote this two years ago. But, the message is still true- the light is on its way.) Darkness terrified me.  As a child it was all that was wrong.  You couldn't see and in the midst of that unseen world were monsters.  Real or imagined, it didn't matter. A child's mind has trouble differentiating between the two.  I avoided it, hid under the covers and ran from it. Now, I can handle physical darkness.  I can find my way through the shadows without so much as bumping my shin.  I don't mind the night, there are times when it is welcome. It's the other darkness that worries and overwhelms me. The kind that comes from within. This year has been one of joy and discovery.  I've made new friends and learned so much. Yet, amid the happiness and good things, there was also some blackness. It slinked in without me knowing and suddenly I was enveloped in the gloom. My blood ran like ink, making my heart heavy and slow.  My hands hung down...

Shhhh. My house is empty. It's so quiet. I am all alone. If I'm dreaming, please don't wake me. I'm not dreaming. My boss asked me if I could work a later shift today. I told her yes before even considering what it meant. It meant a morning to myself. After I agreed, the numbers hit me. The kids would leave for school and I would have two and a half hours all alone. That's 150 minutes with no fighting or food fixing or remote finding. Just me and the dog and whatever I chose to do. Oh. My. What to do? I could deep clean the kitchen (that fridge!). I could fold clothes. (hahahahahaha!) There's some crafts I've been wanting to get to and I could paint without little fingers wanting to help. I. Could. Sleep. The possibilities were almost endless. But, in the end there's only one thing I wanted that is so much easier without all those distractions I love so much. I could write. And, so I am. I'm writing here. (Does this mean a return ...

23 years ago I woke on a sunny December morning, butterflies abounding. Wedding day. Is there any more thrilling day in the life? Our courtship had been short and fast-paced, starting wedding plans after only a month of dating. Now, the dress had been borrowed and altered, the tuxedos ordered and picked up, the cake made and the church reserved and ready for decorations. Just miles away, the temple stood waiting.  That young woman is so very different than who I am today. I wonder, if I could sit with her that morning as she rushed to put on makeup and do her hair, what would I tell her? Would I explain that the man she would soon kneel across the altar from was a good man? Should I tell her how he adored her and how he would do just about anything for her? Perhaps she already suspected this, but I know she didn't understand the depth of his adoration. Could I whisper to her that he was not, in fact, perfect? That there would be times he would disappoint her, and that she...