“I Release What Is Not Mine to Fix”

 What is it that I am holding that isn't mine to carry? It feels heavy like dead weight ready to drop right off of my body. When I run, it runs with me, and my feet feel like I have weights on them the way they drag. Just a few times I run up the stairs and feel like myself. How do I release what isn't mine to carry when I don't even know I'm carrying it? These kids, they all make their way into my line of sight. I hope for a better life for them. I observe, ponder, listen and learn. 

I'm directed to say it: "I release what is not mine to fix."

I am not in charge of fixing all situations presented to me. I just need to help as I am able. Each day is new and might bring about new places, spaces and people. Maybe I'll be able to help and maybe I'll be able to accept help. 

I miss the way my dog would growl at the kids when they put their fingers close to her face. And how she would quickly bite their fingers before they pulled them away. They would laugh; I would laugh. I miss those funny moments we had with her, living in the now. 

I fill up my water bottle at the refrigerator. Someone opens the door. I wait patiently until the door is closed again so my water bottle can start filling up again. It's an awkward wait like, oh my gosh, nobody realizes yet that when they open the door, the water stops. I try to practice patience when it happens, and my son opens it, and I tell him to close it right away. 

I hear the word "unacceptable", and now gently remind myself to get in a position in which I am able to accept what is mine to carry and release what is not mine to fix. 

Hello Hello Hello

I smell the cologne and then the perfume and I think of how nice they are together. 

I wear it like faded old jeans that match with every top I love. 

Why do I not yet write like a normal person. My words are all muttered together as if I understand why the "Dead Poet's Society" could thoroughly enjoy being fictionally dead. 

Maybe I don't know, who would ever know? 

Hello I say in my mind with a smile. 

Somewhere the comfort of human beings co-exists. 

Is this where he speaks from, that "dead poet's society" type of place? 

I wonder and then also wonder where on earth could this be acceptable. Is it a point like that trying to be proven? 

I am ashamed of myself as much as I am proud. 

The way it trickles down to each and every one of us, or maybe like ants building up. Dealing with decisions we might not understand but endure, as if we are German people during the time of anti-Jews. Similar to Covid, what do you choose?  

I yearn for the presence of my dog.

Those dogs were nice to be merciful to me. They were happy when they realized I gave them water, and they drank the whole bowl at once while I watched them. It wasn't until my son showed me a clip about the capabilities of a pit bull and German shepherd when I realized why nobody was around. 

Gee, thanks God, I ponder. 

I walk to the car and see the trash can knocked over after walking out of the gate. I know the bear was there, must have just been there when I heard the dog barking. I look around, get my glasses and walk back inside. 

Hello, hello, hello God. Thanks. Thank you, thank you so much. 

Just Write I Say To Myself

I guess I needed a new book to inspire me. 

Fresh letters put into words on the pages

Meaning something I like to read

So I want to write.

My sons inspire me

They enjoy my happiness as I enjoy theirs

It comes from a good place

So it's enjoyable.

We're still getting to know each other every day, it's new. 

This book we're reading in class makes me feel like it's okay to write like this

Embrace the quirkiness

Because at least I'm writing. 

Therefore, it still inspires me, even though I've already read it a time or two. 

But that cologne, I saved a spray of it and it's starting to fade.