Sad strokes

Crying on the inside. Crying over the known. The unknown. The old and the new. And just tired in the now. And then…

Today is the first day, of a week of tests, that my oldest is doing to enter University. All set and she is looking at schools abroad. At the same time the next one is planning a life in Asia…and what am I doing?

Me and the dogs. I get this is the time when my creativity is to blossom and I will have all time in the world doing all those things I never could as a young adult, but what were those things?

All I can remember was that I wanted my own family [and not anything like the one I had]. An international life, speaking several languages, learn film, politics and business…

…but the sad strokes of the upcoming solitude are already hitting me. How much fun we have had. Crazy stupid messy situations, that has become funny memories now.

I think of my mother too. How much of all this she is missing, when she didn’t have to. How scared and sad she must have been. How few of the things she planned we never did. Conversations never had.

But before that we have one more year all together and then me and the little one have at least another 4-5 years to camp together and do more crazy, messy, funny things.

Feelings are friends Doreen Virtue says. I am like a very old bottle starting to crack up, with the liquid zippering slowly down its sides. Still feeling primarily blocked and locked in.

Crying on the inside. Crying over the known. The unknown. The old and the new. And just tired in the now. And then on the feet again doing all my little things, such as being the school drive, the consultant, the house made, the animal manager… I smile.

Life’s contradictions and sarcastic ironies. Maybe God does think we don’t have enough humour?

Cracks let the light in, so let the light be love and the love happiness.

Happy and sad – sappy – and grateful.

348 signals left to come home.

Image courtesy of rakratchada torsap at


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