Packing Reflections

I hate packing.

Yet it is something I have found myself doing a lot in my life. Especially lately. But its okay, moving like the wind, each move is a new brush direction, a new shade to add to the tales of my life.

I had been looking forward to leaving, to going to Texas for two weeks, after all my Aunt and Uncle here are like the parents I never had and I feel wanted and at home in their house. My Aunt treats me like her daughter, there are no double standards, no awkward moments. But for that comes the hardship of being so close to my natural mother. However, it balances, as all things in life seem to do in the end.

Last night however I was caught off guard by something. By the tears of my little cousin B. (for my relatives here I tend to just use the first letter of their names.) She's a bright and happy six year old girl, with lovely manner and a sweet disposition. However she was on her second night away from her mother, and before this she had never been away from both of her parents at the same time. So she was crying and the other six year old girl M wasn't making things any better. I sent M to bed, as my aunt and uncle in Cali were already asleep and I was tending to the girls; and brushed out B's hair, speaking to her and offering to cuddle with her.

She clung to me as we lay down, careful of the cast that she had on her right arm, due to come off next week. She told me about when it had been broken, how she hadn't had her parents with her then, but how they had both come so quickly. For my family, B is extremely sheltered and it touched my heart to know that. As I lay there, listening to her talk, humming and cuddling her, wiping away her tears I found my heart completely open.

I sang to her, held her in my arms, and for the first time in my life realized that I would actually love to have a child of my own.

Because it is possible, to do what my aunt there did, to raise a sweet, wonderful child even when your past is a nightmare. The sins of the parent don't have to be the sins of the child, nor do the nigthmares of that child have to pass on to their offspring. And there is so much more to being a parent then just birthing the child.

I raised my siblings, perhaps that is why I am so mature for my age. I don't know. But after loosing them for years, and loosing them nearly destroying me, I closed that part of myself off, to protect it. A six year old's tears broke through to it. Its nice to find old parts of yourself.

And new ones too.

Flying into Dallas was a mixed bag of emotions for me, the good with the bad of my mother and my aunt who is like the mother I never had. And my uncle who is the father figure I longed for my whole life. And for me the afternoon was perfect, charmed almost. I fit in, I felt at home, coming back here, to the home I never had, to the house where there is a room set aside just for me, where there was thought put into what was done. Its nice to not be a burden. I found out that my aunt and I have even more in common then I thought, and for the first time I have that mother daughter relationship were you can and do tell everything. I have no secrets from her, we spent a few hours just us girls, talking and sharing stories. I have even told her about E, showed her the site, and some of my stories. Yes, that open. I have complete and utter acceptance, and let me tell you, damn it feels good. I have found acceptance from friends here, from people who are like the family of my heart. But to have someone that I'm actually related to give me that, that's something I never dared to even dream of.

However with the good comes the bad right? My mother showed up after I thought she wasn't going to.

Its hard sometimes, distancing myself from her, putting up the boundaries and limits I need to be able to stay half way sane with her in my life. But I'm getting better and when I fall apart I have my "parents" and my friends to help me pull myself back together.

So to all my friends here, thank you, thank you for the color of paint you add to my life, thank you for the understanding and acceptance of your open arms and minds. Thank you for being you, and please, mes amies, never change. My love is always yours, and as I'm finding, love can bloom even in the heart of a storm. I'm a flower in bloom, unfurling my petals slowly and shyly. But even if one or two get torn away in the winds of adversity then the opening is still worth it. Because I felt the sun of your companionship.