Heart

My heart makes it clear when it wants to speak. It softens. Warms. And I listen, as if it might whisper some sort of miracle to me, a recipe to make the aching go away.

There has been such joy in my life, of late. I’ve just started a wonderful course in Early Learning, which lights me up from head to toe. No purpose could be greater than supporting children and helping them to grow into joyous, loving little people.

Of course, then there’s the worries of sending my own little one off into big new adventures she has not chosen for herself. Daycare and Kinder. Those two places are fun, and all sorts of wonderful, but they are not Mummy’s loving arms.

Hurting my children is the hardest thing I have to deal with in this life. Inevitably, life will hurt them. I will hurt them with words as simple as ‘no’. Control is a concept that breaks my soul and scrapes it along the pavement like broken glass. Freedom belongs to every soul. Even children.

But it doesn’t, does it? Children aren’t free to choose certain things, and when those freedoms are taken from them, I feel the air rip right beside me.

I hated being controlled as a child.

Even if I now know that choices my parents made on my behalf were for my benefit, it still hurts to see my children in pain because of a choice I have taken from them.

Life. It is brutal.

I give this moment to my heart, to soothe the creaking aches.