A Short Story
Let me tell you a short story about a boy walking down the road. As he was walking, he met a man going the other way. “Hey! You’re a donkey!” the man pointed at the boy and kept going. The boy shook his head and continued on his way. What did that man know? Who did he think he was anyway?
A bit later, the boy came to a road where one of his former friends happened to be sitting. As he got closer, the friend laughed and pointed. “You are a donkey!” he chuckled as the boy walked by. This made the boy a bit sad. But, he knew he was a boy, so he continued on.
Farther down the road, the boy saw his teacher walking towards him. He loved and respected her, and was excited to see her. As they got closer, she got a strange look on her face. “Boy, you are looking a bit like a donkey today.” At this point, the boy reached behind to feel for his tail.
I’m a Donkey
The accusation came again this week: “Why do you have to be so serious?”
It was said during an argument where lots of other things were said as well. Those others included that I need to “figure out how to be a damn mother” and how I needed to take a good look at myself and my bull $#!* and figure something out.
The police got involved, that was when something in me broke. I have to start looking for my tail.
The Best Laid Plans . . .
I had planned a silly celebration for this week. We were going to get all dressed up, have a fancy dinner, and just celebrate for no reason. Sadly, the week began to unravel early. I’m not positive I know where the snag happened. A lot of little things stacked up until they fell over. It is one of the struggles of being with the same people 24/7 in quarantine.
We didn’t celebrate.
Unless you count Baby dancing around the living room because his favorite police officers came to visit him. Again.
I’m not “fun”. In fact, there are times I’m so totally serious because I feel like I have to be guarded a lot of the time. Too much emotion tips the scales at home, and things blow up. They blow up enough as it is.
All the fun activities, the strange things to do, all the crafts and cooking. None of them can make up for the problem that is deeply rooted in me. It is gardening time! Time to Dig Down Deep (yes, Marc Cohn, a nod to you) and get this unstuck. I may have to adjust some of my goals for this year to next. This is why I make goals for myself, and do reflections, and then make new goals. So I can get to the place I want to be — be the person I want to be — be the person my kids need me to be.
I like to leave with a question for you, in the hopes of starting a dialogue instead of a monologue. I don’t have a question today — I’m still a bit raw and emotional. I’d love your words of encouragement if you have some for me.