Help In The Night

She wanted to switch on the light, but she didn’t dare wake him.  On those sleepless nights, if the moon wasn’t too bright, she could see stars through the skylights above their bed.  Maybe one day, when she was free to pursue her own interests, she’d learn the constellations – Cassiopeia, Orion and the others.  The names made her think of possibility.

Possibility was what she needed to believe in right now.

Was it possible to feel good again?

Was it possible to create a healthier life – better than this life full of fears and disappointments and anger?

She gently turned back the covers and stepped out of bed.  She had tiptoed down the stairs enough times in the dark to feel her way down without bumping into anything.  Once downstairs, she could turn on a light, slide out the drawer in the office desk, and reach into the back for a small, innocent-looking spiral notepad.  The pages were worn.  The pad was almost full.  She had turned down corners on pages that held the notes that touched her most deeply.

A couple pages were tear-stained.

A few pages were full of illegible scribbles that seemed to shout the anger she felt at the time of writing.

This notepad was her safe haven.  This notepad and the file folder of quotes had created her new future.

These notes were the friend she didn’t worry about imposing on, the grandmother who listened without judging, and the counselor who seemed to have all the answers.

___________

Six years later, she’s living under her own roof in a house she now calls home.

She can turn the light on in the middle of the night.  Maybe she checks email.  Maybe she reads.

She can do as she likes.

 

 

She can stand at the kitchen sink and eat Cheerios.  She can walk the creaking hardwoods to check on the kids, and pull covers under their chins.  The cat follows her through the night, looking for ankles to rub and a bit more food.

She doesn’t feel the need to search the internet to find out what’s wrong with her.  Oh, she could.  She’ll never be perfect, but that isn’t the goal.  Her goal is to feel whole.

She pulls out a kitchen drawer to grab pen and paper to write a reminder for tomorrow.  Library books need to be re-checked.  Will looks like he needs a haircut and Jenny hopes to get together with her BFF.

Notes now are less urgent.

The notes she writes now aren’t desperate pleas.

She reaches for a notepad and finds the one she’d started at his house.  It’d been a few years since the last time she had flipped through the pages.  Now she fans the notepad and feels the power in the words.  She sees how the scratches and scribbles have paved her way.

 

 

Those notes have been compiled into an ebook for you.  These are words to motivate change, to encourage you on your way, or to help you see possibility. 

Words Got Her Home is your help in the night.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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4 comments

  1. I am glad she is living the life she deserves, happy & on her terms. No tear stained pages!! Love & light only :)

  2. Kira,

    Me, too. ;)

  3. When the teachers said “show, don’t tell,” I doubt they said it to you. I felt like I was right there, tucking in children with a purring cat rubbing up against my ankle. Cheers to the Cheerios at the kitchen sink! =)

  4. Meredith,

    Thanks for reading. I’ll be thinking of you the next time I have Cheerios. ;)

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