telling the truth

Our city is thawing, new calendars grace the walls and everyone seems to be thinking, what's next? I've been noticing this last week how I have dreams about the artistic, adventurous lives my children will lead (Amelia's name actually means adventurous), and telling the truth to myself: I haven't been brave enough to live my own dreams and I've become that parent that no one ever wants to be--the one who doesn't have space for their children to have dreams of their own. I've been looking inside to see if I can unearth the courage to pursue my own dreams and leave behind the hope that someone else will do it for me. It may not sound like a big thing, but it has been a brutal realization. A crossroad of sorts.

And I notice today that I am filled with apprehension about the future, which isn't like me. Some seasons of life are rooted in predictability, but we've hit a spot where dramatic change could be ahead, or maybe just something subtle. I don't know. Living with the unknowing isn't my forte. I have to remind myself that the appearance of predictability is just an illusion anyway. I hope my loved ones will hold me in their hearts these next weeks while I try to listen and wait.