I’m not going say my storms are over; there’s no way of me knowing that. What I am saying is that I’m not looking for them anymore.
In the past the slightest sounds of thunder would have been running under a bed. These days, it takes a shock of lightening to make me move at all. There is a numbness that comes to those that have been pained by the past. You’d think we’d be seeking it out and leaving no rock unturned. You would think we would look for wrong-doing like a child seeks Easter eggs in a hunt that offers a large prize.
Maybe I’m a little damaged–even a few screws loose, but I’m proud of these scars. I stretch my scars out a long paper each and every day, and that is what makes the past have meaning.
I’m not going to be naive and believe that everything is perfect. There’s nothing perfect about me or some of my choices. The difference is that I learn and grow from them.
Thank goodness for these storms that we endure. Without them, I would be blind and completely lost in a world that most never feel. In this case, I am blessed with seeing the sun, with new eyes, instead of always assuming it will be there.
©2014 Angela M. Carter