A Fresh Season of Life

I've been thinking a lot about that 8-year-old me...Wondering why I'd been silent all these years towards her.  It took some real deep digging to find out exactly what was going on between myself and her. Years ago, in a similar season of excavation and discovery, I had a dream of an adult Terri rescuing a child who had been hidden away in a dark cupboard.  I scolded the older girl child who was responsible for treating her so and told her she was never to treat the younger child in such a way again.  I was quite angry and quite forceful in my language to the older girl.   When I awoke from that dream, it didn't take a lot of psychoanalysis on my part to figure out that both the girls were a part of myself and that the older had behaved pretty badly towards the younger. This letter I'd written in error had been a mistake but a providential mistake.  I'd never before acknowledged this girl child self, aside from rescuing her...WHY had I given her the silent ...

John and I laughingly share a fantasy of what our next move will look like.  We began this little fantasy when we moved into this house thirty years ago. We didn't have funds left to rent a truck and all the friends we had were suddenly perpetually busy when we were ready to move.  So, we came up with a routine.  Every night I'd load up my SUV as full as I could get it with boxes and things.  Then I'd drive the 50 miles to work.  When work was done, I'd drive the hour here and unload the boxes, drive the 30 miles home and after supper I'd load the SUV all over again, then pack more boxes.   After three weeks we were down to all but the sofas and bookcases, washer and dryer.  And I was DONE. It was a long and tedious process, and I was exhausted by the end of it.  That's when we started our fantasy about our next move. Our fantasy goes like this:  I'll pack my most favorite books, my computer, the keyboard and music books.   He'...