Those Early morning thoughts

Getting up this morning while the moon was still lazily making his way to the other side of earth, and curling myself up in a blanket on the garden bench with a cup of coffee and my morning smoke, I realized that there is still a war waging in my mind, and that I am still very much circling around the drain, like cloudy bath water, laced with 'outside dirt' and contaminants. Laced with other people's breaths and thoughts, the trails of fingerprints on the small of my back, ever present and unable to leave because they've soaked into the fibers of my being and the roots of who I fundamentally am. I've tried for so long to get rid of them, but all I'm left with is red skin and quiet early mornings.

When the moon had finally left and the sun peeked it's face over the ocean on the horizon, I stretched out my legs from under the blanket, and as I sat there looking at them, so many memories flooded through my mind, those legs that had taken their first unsteady steps towards mom and dad, later running and riding bikes and carrying me on long walks to ponder myself, those legs that had curled up into a ball on the bathroom floor when the nights were just too long and life was just too sore, but also at other times had been draped over a lover's lap or wrapped around their warm bodies in the embraces of love and ecstasy. The legs that had danced the night away at my wedding and then had to carry me to the inside of a courtroom to have it all wiped away like a drawing on a blackboard, a story that existed but never mattered, like it was all a dream. Legs that have formed a lap where children were raised through giggly tickles to long nights of fevers and nightmares, and a lap that has welcomed one too many abandoned children with snot noses and tired souls, seeking solace and some form of motherly care.

I traced my finger along the beauty spot on the inside of my thigh, as I have done so many times as a kid, and the familiar feeling of 'me' brushed past my heart for a split second. I smiled softly as I closed my eyes and tilted my head back to take a deep breath, and in that moment as I felt the tears staining my cheeks I knew that I still have a long way to go, I knew that there's a lover waiting for me to drape my legs over his lap and to wrap them around him in the quiet hours of the night when time will stand still for every moment to be soaked in. I knew that there's a million steps ahead, a few nights on the bathroom floor, a cheer next to the sports field, a lap for my grandchildren, and many long walks to ponder myself.

The difference in this story for me and for you is that the next million steps lies ahead not in the shadows of brokenness, but in the strength of knowing that steps are okay to be taken alone in the deepest crevices of yourself, and the only hand you'll ever truly need to take that first step is when you can look back and see the raw beauty of your footprints as they trace the moments that create this story of YOU. Only then will you realize that there has never been a more beautifully written script than the one that you are living every single day.