This morning, when I went upstairs to make the bed, there it was. Neat as a pin. Already pulled together, and with my zillion barkcloth pillows carefully arranged on it too. A secret surprise meant for me to discover later, after she’d already left.
For the zillionth time, I paused and said a silent prayer of thanks that I am so blessed. And again, I was left to wonder, why me? What made me so deserving?
I was no saint in my youth. If blessings were handed out on the basis of merit, I’d be working overtime trying to right the many wrongs of my past.
But still. One peek inside the room with the lime green walls, and the leopard bean bag chair and the stacks of books- and I know it’s true. I am blessed. Amy. My daughter. My beloved.
Deep dark fears? There are too many to name. It’s part of the deal you make when you give your heart away completely. At even the happiest of times, I often sense a shadow passing over the sun, and I shiver.
But then I reach out to hold her hand, or ask her for a hug. Some gesture to bring me back into the sunlight. The present moment. The here and now. Because that’s what matters.
So to those deep, dark fears that lurk in the coldest corners of my mind, hoping and waiting for the chance to stir up one heck of a storm…listen up.
I’m not about to stop working on my suntan any time soon.
This piece was inspired by the Red Dress Club prompt to write a letter to your deepest darkest fear.