Six

I miss my mother. She's been gone for the last fifteen days and isn't likely to return until the weekend. I understand that I'm a (mostly) adult and it seems that adults don't miss their parents in the sense that they want to curl up in a lap and be hugged and told that everything is going to be okay. When, if ever, comes the moment when you are strong enough to stand alone and be okay? Or does it just never happen? I feel like it's weak to want my mother at twenty-three, but I can't deny the ache of missing her. So I console myself with some knitting ( I am, alas, pictureless) talking with a couple friends and reminding myself that she will come home this weekend.

Time

A wise friend tells me, often, that "It Takes Time". All good things take time, they take time to make and time to break, but time is a must. So I sigh, knowing she is right (she usually is) and wait for time to pass. Suddenly I look back and find it's been two months, and I feel a little better. More alive, ready for a new adventure, new meetings and places. I'm just not sure which direction to go from here, so I wait just a little longer.