Moments pass. Over and over as I roll through each day. It isn’t much different than before, except I awake earlier and two young toddler people mandate I care for them. Some days, I mix oatmeal with bananas or raisins, other days I soak bread in a mixture of egg, milk, cinnamon and sugar and fry it in butter. Some days, I wish it was another day.

I am so lonely, yet my only wish is to spend some time alone. Two other halves of me are always in my context. I love them, but they tire me.

When things get rough, I go for a drive. I pack the kiddos and the mongrel dog up in the minivan and I just drive. I listen to songs on the radio and cry my eyes out. I have a lot of grief I never dealt with. I let it all out inside the songs, the road I drive on, the trees overhead and the occasional train track we roll over. Tears stream down my face and I hope no one sees me through my minivan window.

When I wake each day, I hope for wonderful . When I go to sleep each night, I know my purpose was important. I learn, I teach. Yet a part of me is missing. It is gone with the tide, with my memories of a self I left behind. Forgotten friends and opportunity I punched in the face.

Songs on the radio of lost love are the worst because those lost loves wouldn’t have a semblance of who I am today, but I remember who they were. Rather, I remember who I was then and I wish sometimes I was stronger. We all wish that. That we had someone that recognized our voice and vision before we did, and loved us for it. We all wish that.

Moments pass. The past lingers and the future holds true. Be true.

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