This morning, I pulled myself up, straighten my bent back, stood more like the old 5 foot 4 inch, and spoke to the woman in the mirror who sometimes is a stranger, “I just want my life back.”
Not a golden age filled with laughter, surprises, the scent of wildflowers, with the sounds of sea and forest bringing calm and meditative peace. That life as such never existed. Nor the one without tears and pain; sans demons within and without – finding such a life would require shifting/morphing time and space.
I want my life back; a life when there still was some sense of adventure and hope; that it was okay to wish and dream just a little; that sometimes I could see a little sunshine through the clouds. No idealist, always a hardheaded realist, jaded, cynical, but with a tiny spark; a shimmery glow light still somewhere inside.
I want my life back; I want that spark, that glimmer back.