sticky feet
July 29, 2013 § 2 Comments
The older I get the more the past seems to follow me, like damp earth stuck to the tread of my shoes; the weight of my presence absorbing passing moments until the path I leave is swollen with memories. The pieces of my past I tried so tirelessly to shake from my company are ever-present, just beneath my consciousness and quickly called to mind unbidden but newly welcome. At this time when my children are casting the shape they will imprint across the paths they traverse, I am considering the measure of my own experiences and welcoming the earthy sense of belonging that accompanies remembering.
scribblechic 
I don’t think we can ever truly leave the past behind. But how we treat it governs how heavy or how light is what we carry with us.
That is perhaps my greatest lesson of late, embracing uncomfortable pieces of my past with an open heart begs less energy from my spirit than maintaining old boundaries.