January 29, 2017 (Dream Baby)

Sometimes I think about you. 

Sometimes I wonder what you would look and sound like. 

Sometimes I wonder if we would have named you Violet or Finn once we saw you.  

I wonder. 

I know I’ll never see you. 

I know I’ll never know. 

I know you live somewhere with the rest of my dreams now, in a place I’ll never get to go.  

January 15, 2017 (Fly Again)

Every single “no” and “can’t” is weighted and tied tightly to my ankles with an invisible line.

The line is so tight, and it’s cutting off my circulation.

No matter how hard I desperately feel for the line to set it free, the bow tightens around me.

I scratch and claw at it until my fingers are bare, but the line doesn’t move.

Instead, the line becomes tighter and tighter until I can hardly breathe from the disappointment and pain.

Did I  tie these lines?

This is the question that repeats in my head every day that I try to set the lines free.

Is this something I can change?

Is it all in my head?

Day after day, I desperately try to release myself.

Day after day, I try my hardest to fly again.

Day after day, I remind myself that these lines are going nowhere.

Day after day, I drag the lines behind me with a smile on my face and a shred of hope that tomorrow will be different.