Along The Journey

It's not at the finish line where you find yourself. It’s not at the end of the race. It’s not when you reach your final goal.

It’s along the journey filled with jagged rocks, upwards climbs into thundering clouds, and dangerous dives towards a black abyss. 

It’s when you fall and pick yourself up, again and again, crying and hurting, yet still moving forward.

It’s in ignoring the naysayers and haters, dodging the evil eyes, and fighting off the worst of those villains — your own self-doubt. 

It's in the fears you conquer, and those you learn to live with to survive.

It’s in the easy plateaus, so quiet and peaceful that you see and feel things that were blocked-out by drive and ambition.

It’s in appreciating all of your small victories, the smiles you meet, the people who laugh with you and continue to jump and fall with you. 

It’s in every day you wake up, breathe deep, take a moment and continue on.

Along the journey is where you find yourself.

Natural Choices

Sometimes, unexpected winds of change
Uproot everything in your path
And force you down to your hands and knees.

You can stay low and still,
Surrender to your altered surroundings,
And hate the universe for cursing you.

Or

You can rise up from the ground,
Dust yourself off, adjust your goals,
And persevere in your new world.

The choice is yours.

Misery & Loneliness

The distance between you and people you love
Has nothing to do with being
Physically apart.

It has everything to do with
How much unconditional love you give
And how much you forgive.

The more free love you give
The closer they feel,
Even when they're thousands of miles away.

The more you feed your anger inside,
Or hold on to grudges,
Or find something to hate...

It doesn't matter how many people
Are within arm's reach,
You will always feel alone.

Long Forgotten

Long forgotten are the days when...

Tickling was the best thing ever,
And laughing made you spit up your food,
And pillow fights were eminent before bedtime,
And puppies and kittens ruled the world,
And Mom and Dad were the strongest of superheroes,
And your little brother was your partner in crime,
And dolls and make-believe were the craze,
And you sang at the top of your lungs without a care in the world,
And danced wildly without coordination,
And played instruments without a tune,
And you lifted your head upwards to look at me,
And my hug was the only one that could comfort you,
And my kisses were like gold,
And I held your hand to cross the street,
And I bandaged up your scraped knees,
And you wanted to be a movie star or chef or dancer or lawyer or pianist...
And rainbow colored socks were vital,
And so were pink and purple winter hats,
And playing zombie makeup was Dad's thing,
And softball and sports was mine,
And we all played board games together at night,
And we would go on long walks to get ice cream,
And...

I haven't forgotten a single day.

Alone

Your smile hides what is aching inside of you, but you can't hide it from me. Your generosity, your forgiving nature, your acts of kindness hide the gaping hole left in your heart. Even if those suffering around you don't notice your suffering -- because you tend to them, console them, help them with their grieving -- I notice your pain. I see your grief, your anguish, and how you smile to hold it all in, to protect us from it, to keep your heart from imploding.

Your laughter shines brightly, until a melody of your youth plays on the radio and your mind drifts off onto uncontrollable waves of melancholy. You recall silly childhood moments, planned schemes against your parents, and fights that led to broken furniture, spilled food, and being grounded for a month. He was the only person who accepted you as you were, your imperfections, your ugliness, your rawness -- without question -- and he is gone. He was your witness, your defense, your alibi in all your childhood claims. You have no one to reference now, only your own memory, which will slowly, eventually, abandon you too, leaving you alone with doubt at your side.

Your breath shakes whenever you speak of him, and the glimmer in your eyes dull just enough that I notice. Your stomach sinks when you realize that it's not your morbid imagination concocting these facts -- it's all too real. He is gone from this world, and you will never be able to hear his infectious laughter, or hear his Army war stories, or argue about who was the favorite child. Your eyes turn to the side and you stare off into the distance, and you wonder what could have been -- what should have been -- reiterating questions that do nothing more but reopen deep scars on your heart.

But I see you. I see your pain, even when no one else does.

You are not alone.

I am with you.