Because it heals me...

Tonight, while I changed the sheets on my daughters' bunk beds I couldn't help but remember moments of my turbulent childhood.

I was mindful of how I tucked the fitted sheets on their mattresses because while I did so, I vicariously tended to the bed I would have slept in as a little girl and added the attention I needed...

It healed me.

I was mindful when I spread out the wrinkles on their flat sheets so that they may sleep comfortably because my childhood sheets were often tangled up from my having to wrap myself up so tightly like a burrito to secure the safety of my little body...

It healed me.

I was mindful in making sure that their little pink glowing night light was plugged in and working properly so that they may not fear any 'imaginary' shadows even though the one 'real' shadow that lurked in my childhood bedroom was not scared away by pink night lights...

It healed me.

I was mindful in adorning their beds with their favorite stuffed animals and decorative pillows I sewed for them because my childhood bed was absent of dolls or anything dedicated to me by my mother...

It healed me.

I was mindful in re-taping the pictures they had put up on their walls of their daddy and I and others of themselves with their sisters because my childhood room never reflected any images of a memorable moment captured by the click of a shutter...

It healed me.

I was mindful in reminding myself that this life I chose, this life I've created, this life I am living and these daughters I am raising and loving and proud to call myself their Mama IS what heals me.

They heal my sorrow.  They heal my pain.  They heal the neglect.  They heal the absence.  They heal my fear.  They heal my heart and soul and mere existence.

I partake in all the mundane, all the wondrous, all the exciting and draining and joy and love and disappointment and anger and beauty and sadness and all the other things in between mothering my three incredibly inspiring daughters...

Because THEY heal me...

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