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The Courage of the Moon

We get funny ideas in our head about how good or bad our life is.  About what kind of memories we lived and lived through and lived for.  We hold things like golden strings between our fingers, sometimes so tightly that we don't even notice they have slipped away into the lost folds of time.

The other night Eric sat in the chair across the room and said "We have a pretty good life, don't we?"

It caught me off guard.  Not because it wasn't true, but rather because it was and his blunt, unfiltered, unexpected, off topic statement jolted me back into that reality. 

I get busy sometimes remembering.  Reminding myself constantly how bad my choices are and were.  How hard it was and is to weather the storm.  How sad I felt and feel, how mixed up and turned around I still get.  I dwell on the tornadoes in my memory, spinning around until the present falls away and only the past pain is real.  Forgetting, in my memory, how happy the past was too.  How much  more happiness there was, moments that stream like sunlight if I open up the window to let it in. 

Perhaps melancholy is the side-affect of a creative mind.  Or maybe its the weight on the scale to balance out the hills and valleys of life.  Perhaps the clouded over sky of a delayed monsoon is playing with my mind and I don't really feel this way at all, it's just the rain. 

I choose to remember that life was and is really good.  It's full of freedom and blessed things, full of children laughing more than crying, hands holding, gentle whispers and Eskimo kisses.  I choose to remember that life's not easy, oh so not easy, but the rewards of going on are greater than those of giving up.  I choose to focus on tomorrow, today is over and fading already into back-light.  I choose to let those funny ideas go.  Perhaps I'll even laugh. 

And when I start to drift again, I'll think of Jaycee.

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