Tuesday, April 07, 2015

My Happy Thought

I cried tears this morning as An American Tail ending scene started. Bug played nearby didn't watch the movie like I, only looked up if I announced that there was a kitty on the screen. She, oblivious to the fact that this movie struck a cord and I was now weeping, played on in her perfect little world filled with tiny books, Mr. Potato Head body parts, and the Canadian Tire money she found in the diaper bag.

I don't know if you are familiar with the movie, but this is an animation that I grew up with and it is near, and very dear, to my heart. Fievel was a prominent character in my childhood. Not only in movie watching was he adored, but I had a Fievel imaginary friend who I carried around in the palm of my hand. As I watched the film, I was reminded of so many amazing memories of my childhood and I just sat sobbing.

Last week has been a week of memory walking for me. Remembering of how things were when I was little, being take care of, not having a care in the world. I went to go see my family for a couple of days and I asked my mom if I could just be little again so that she could hold me. She replies, "oh yes," and I sat there wishing that I could remember what it felt like to not have to think about anything. Back to the good old days of pushing my cabbage patch doll down our gravel driveway, where Fievel was always in somebodies pocket, and back to when I sat on my parent's counter, mixing spices together, trying to cook up some form of breakfast and wondering why it wasn't working. 

Why can't I be little again?

Why can't I start life over again? ... with the knowledge of what this life has brought me, of course, so I can avoid the silly mistakes and try to stay away from all things painful. So that maybe, perhaps, I could be more of an inspiration to those around me and so that I can make more of the time that I have lived on this earth. Why can't I start it all over?

As much as I wish and hope to go back in time, to change a few things or to enter into that life of not having a care in the world again, the truth is, I cannot. Nobody can go back in time and live in those moments or do things over. And if we could, the world would stop turning as we all lay in our happy moments frozen in time. Where is the growth in that? How do we evolve and bloom when we lay frozen?

Then I wonder, if I really think about it, would I even go back? If the option laid before me and I had to give an answer, would I? The selfishness in me shouts out YES as loud as possible and my heart beats faster than normal. What I would change, where I would go, what would I do. Graduate from highschool earlier, finish my novel(s) earlier, go to art school, travel, start blogging earlier. Dreams. Wishes. Hopes. I would be a different person than I am today. I would have new memories, new friends, new experiences.

Even though all of that sounds interesting and adventurous, I begin to think about what it is that I would be missing out on if I lived out this new life. Friendships. Jobs. Experiences. More friends. Oman. What about meeting my husband? And Marriage? And Bug?

There will always be pain and moments in time that we will want to forget. There will always be that little breathe of a second that I will wonder what my life could have looked like if only ... but, as I look around this little apartment: puzzle pieces scattered on the floor, forgotten lunch on the highchair, a sleeping baby with boogers up to her eyebrows, would I, if I could, trade this all in just for the fact that I could have maybe gotten a little bit more out of my career and school life? Is it really worth all of that daydreaming and wishing?

No. My family is something that I would never trade or forget.

I am a firm believe in everything happens for a reason. I know that this is cliche and is hard to grasp when the bad things happen in our lives, but I still do believe in it. I believe that my story is here for a purpose and that everything I did or didn't do has created me exactly who I am supposed to be in April 2015. If I could go back in time and change things up or live life differently, I would not only be a different person but I would have different thoughts, opinions, and worldviews than I do now. I could be happy in a different life, but I would never be THIS happy.

Yes, my dreams and wishes are a little harder to get out there in the world since I have a toddler running around, but it is still possible. I would rather stay awake until 4 in the morning making deadlines than to give up those giggles, scrunchie faces, and booger messes. My husband is my best friend and biggest encourager, I can not even imagine doing my personal and life growing up without him. Yes, there are bumps in the road and weird side roads that are sometimes shortcuts and sometimes they just get us lost - however, I don't even want to imagine my life without these two in it. I don't even want to imagine traveling with out them.

I have life experience and it has made me exactly who I want to be. I have opinions, I have ideas, I have knowledge over certain matters. I could wish for all the pain to go away, but then I wouldn't be a blessing or a help to someone in a similar matter. That's what I want to be.  A help. An encourager. Isn't that the reason for my story? To share with others, to build a community, to grow? What is the point in life if I live in a bubble of me, me, me - never sharing or never helping others. This is what I want to be in the world and this is what I want my blog to help build; a place to share, be honest and to help encourage.

So as I sit, balling my eyes out over little Fievel who is now reunited with his family after so many cruel days of separation, I realize that not only are there a few tears of grief of things that have been lost, but that they are also tears of thankfulness, of gratitude, of joy, of faith, of love, of family, of growth, of living, and so much more. Would I be able to appreciate all of this if I lived another life? Would I be able to grieve a little over my childhood if I experienced all of this? Would I know be forcing Bug to watch this movie because it was a favorite if I chose to go back and "try again?" Happy memories. Sad memories. Life memories. Memories that make me ME.

I hear Bug stir from the other room, waking up from her precious dreams of what I can only assume are filled with kitties and crackers (she loves her crackers!). I cannot wait for her to see the tower of blocks I built as well as the silly face I put on Mr. Potato Head. I pause. A smile and another tear falls as I, just now, have my biggest revelation of all. In a way, in a wonderful and amazing way that I can hardly being to explain in words, I do get a chance to live out my childhood - with her. With beautiful Bug. Being a mom has let me to see with child eyes again, marveling at how big, and wonderful, and scary the world can be. We imagine and we play together, wondering where Pooh Bear went and why lego is so hard to take apart sometimes. Reading stories of being on ships, of talking animals, and of spiders who can write. This is my joy right now. To give her my imagination and to help build up her world. To watch her grow, to lead and to guide, to answer her questions, and to be there when she falls. It is time to build her memories. Maybe one day she will ask me if she could be a little toddler again, and I will tell her, "oh yes." But until that far off day, I must run, tea parties and giggles await me.

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