we carry specific memories of our childhood with us, some good and some bad. it always seems to be memories of things that are completely irrelevant and un-important. for instance, i remember in Cleveland sitting on the sidewalk in front of my childhood home eating salad with a girl who lived down the street, but it was covered in italian dressing and we were ranting about how delicious the dressing was and there could never be anything like it. i was 7. or when i was about 5 and my papa (rest in peace) used to wheel us around the cul-de-sac in his wheel barrow and we just whizzed by all the other kids and they envied us. i wish he could be here for my daughter.. to buy her shoes like he did us, he loved shoes, and tan me a new hide for getting pregnant in the first place. he’d paint her name on our childhood red wagon under mine and flaunt her around like she was his pride and joy, his first great grand child. as im reminiscing im crying. there’s a difference in my tears. every few are sad tears and the next couple are tears of joy. my life as i know it, is ending. im on my way to something much bigger, more important and incredibly beautiful. every nudge, kick, or roll that flutters beneath my skin and in my stomach reminds me of the life i used to have, but only as a memory. and lets me know that everything will be okay. i have all of the love in the world for something as tiny and miraculous as she. if it weren’t for her, i would be somewhere, not myself. ive painted a colorful future for us both, in the most vibrant shades of optimism.
‘as sure as night is dark and day is light, i keep you on my mind both day and night..and happiness i’ve known proves that its right. because you’re mine, i walk the line’
