In the Arms of the Past

Just this morning browsing through my social media, I found a post on grief. One of my closest friends and I returned from a weekend away at the beach. My parent’s estate enabled me to buy the house and my effort enabled me to renovate it.

crochet rug

An eclectic collection of things I love. I feel I comforted, supported and at peace whenever I go there.

This has not always been the case. Although I made the conscious decision to keep only the things I loved when they first came to me. I was stuck. Immobile in my new place, sharing it with many of my friends just to fill the house with love and laughter.

For a long time it remained the same, a mausoleum suspended in space. One sunny morning I looked at a small patch of wall and made the decision to paint over the mint green paint. Acceptance unleashed a watershed of changes.

Writing Schicksal fueled the momentum I had so far established.

Excitement began to fill me as I created my space according to my taste, op shop and designer boutique things stood side by side. It continued and my invitations became refined, people who loved me and I them.

We began to have fun, real laughter and joy rang out.

The blanket of grief grew thinner and thinner and a soft breeze blew it away, unnoticed. Now I return to my past surrounded by the things that activate memories of my parent’s love within me. With a full heart I embrace what I have been given.

I, an adult orphan rest happily in the arms of my past.

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