My Proudest Moments and Pssst – We Have Wings

Late at night, when all I hear is the humming of my house and the silent moon in the window, it would be easy to think about the things that I regret. Not saving more money when I could have, buying this house in a seller’s market, procrastinating the scheduling of doctors and dentists and cleaning and clearing. The pile of papers on the side of my desk that I’m tempted to toss without looking through because whatever is in there hasn’t been needed for months and probably never will be. Unless it is, and so the pile stays.

It would be easy to think of the not doing enough and the not being enough. About not taking better care of my things and of myself.

About the broken bowl from Sweden that is just a broken bowl even though it feels like proof that I laughed and wandered there.

It would be easy to find worry and regret in the shadows and the silence. So easy to cry over the fact that it’s supposed to snow tomorrow, when I thought we were done with winter and an entryway cluttered with puffy jackets and dirty mittens.

But tonight, instead of doing easy and thinking about all of those things, I will remember the moments in my past that I am most proud of.

The moments in which I’ve felt that I have wings.

The day that I said yes to moving 1700 miles away from the life I’d built to make a new home with my dog and a promotion.

The day when I went back to college after running out of money, leaving, and deciding that I didn’t need it anyway. The day that I got my diploma, later than the ones my friends received, and it meaning so much more because of it.

The time when I walked steadily away from a relationship that made me afraid of the barely recognizable girl in the mirror.

That 3:00am conversation in the dark when, with tears and hope, I said “This isn’t going to work if you don’t want to have a baby.” That he said yes.

The second that my newborn son was handed to me and I held him, skin to skin against my chest. The tears in my husband’s eyes and our future in my little boy’s.

My dreams of sharing words with my baby boy. That I rebuilt them and learned to embrace the irony that words will likely be a lifelong challenge for him. That it’s okay that they remain a lifeline for me.

The IEP meeting when I didn’t cry, or get upset, and instead called upon the grace and the wisdom from other special needs parents I’d met and hadn’t met but had been where I was then. That I released my little boy into mainstream kindergarten, knowing that he just might fly. Knowing that if he fell, it would not be the end of the world and we’d have another meeting and readjust. Being okay with that. I’m proud of that.

Wings, that carry me to the always and to the next, and to the knowing that while I feel like I’m falling and flapping, that I’m gliding.

Wings, that will take me from gliding, and soar me up once again, even when I feel like nesting.

Wings, that will carry my son to his own next.

Wings, that will carry me to know that his own next, without me, is okay.

Wings. Pssst. We have them.

We will fly. We are flying.

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This has been a Finish the Sentence Friday post, where writers and bloggers link up their words to a weekly prompt. This week’s is “My proudest moment was…”
I am your happy host (Kristi from findingninee.com) and proud that this week’s cohosts are Tarana Khan (this week’s sentence thinker upper) from sandinmytoes.tk and Kerri Ames of undiagnosedbutokay.com.

ALSO – The idea for this post was born from a writing practices group that I’ve been participating in for the past couple of weeks. I learned about it from Dana, who learned about it from Nicki, and I love it. The group’s mastermind is Jena Schwartz and I do not have the words to tell you how powerful it’s been to be a part of a secret small group that sets a timer for 10 minutes and writes. Seriously, it’s been empowering and amazing. For more information, or to join one of Jena’s groups, click here.