I had one of those days that makes you say "Told you so" to women who insist that their husbands are their only needed outlet to the outside world. To the women who feel like girlfriends just aren't that important and are overrated. I know I have posted about this before, or at least have had this conversation with myself at some point of time, but it is always refreshing to remind yourself of some great wisdom that you continuously discover. I spent time with a friend I feel like is my hand in glove kind of friend. The type of friend that when you walk away from them you feel like you are perfectly okay. I also love having a friend who has amazing wee ones because it's after those times that you can muster up the strength and begin to believe that you too can see yourself adding a loud little life into your quiet little duo. And thank goodnes for such a day to remind me of how normal I have become.
As I returned home with many stories and thoughts to share with my husband, I was stopped dead in my tracks with one little picture.
It came with no explanation, not like it needed to, nor did I have to look long to recognize those familiar faces. I knew. And with my hand over my mouth I just sat and stared at this picture for hours and hours. Dissecting each face with my eyes and remembering back to a time where at that particular moment I felt apart of something I could have had only dreamt of. This picture came as quiet a shock. Just by looking at it I am sure many of you probably can't figure out why. I don't talk about my past much, because, not to be so cliche, but I don't like allowing my past to dictate my future. But for people to thoroughly understand what you're feeling, sometimes you must. Growing up the way I did, my definition of family typically differed from what others had for themselves. My family consisted of my mother, grandmother and my two sisters. I also had a father and a step-mother that I only saw 3 days out of each month except for holidays the visits would be a little longer. At a late age I realized that this was not the typical family make up. I also realized that not every family got evicted, or that they had to sell there soul to the church in order to have groceries. I used to dream that I was actually adopted and my real family would come find me soon. When I turned 13 years old, in my mind my real family did find me. John and Sheryl Lafalce became my make believe "real" family and remained that way for 4 years. I won't go into great detail about those years, but you just need to know that to me, that was my dream family and each night when I would sleep over, as Sheryl would come in and kiss me goodnight, I felt normal. When I was 17 years old, and needed them the most because it was then my world began to crumble once again, my family left me and moved to Colorado. The fairy tale ended and we never really heard from them again. I believe it was just to painful Sheryl for reasons I think I understand, and I might write about that at a later date as this is already becoming longer than I had expected. But for now I sit and bring myself back to a time when I felt normal. And now, eleven years later I can honestly say that it is no longer a fairy tale but a reality. I finally do feel normal.