Peace

The morning after the explosion between Jake and I, I woke him before leaving for work. As I sat on the edge of his bed, I told him how sorry I was for yelling at him. He asked me for a hug. As I wrapped my arms around his body I told him how much I loved him.

He told me he loved me, too.

As I stood up to leave, I handed him the apology letter I agonized forever over the night before. Snuggling down into his bed again, he closed his eyes and, smiling his uniquely crooked smile, he tucked my letter under his chin.

"You're NOT My Mother!"

Dear Jake:

I am absolutely devastated by what happened between us last night. I am truly sorry, and I deeply regret, having yelled at you.

In an instant I turned in to a parent I vowed I would never be. I allowed myself to turn the hurt I was feeling overwhelmed with, to anger – and I shouldn't have. I just never imagined I could be so hurt by something you said to me.

Jake, you're right; I'm not your mother. I am not the woman who carried you for nine months, endured hours of painful labor and gave birth to. I was not the first person to ever hold you. As an infant, I am not the parent you kept up all night or barfed on. I wasn't the parent who rocked you to sleep or picked you up when you cried. I wasn't there when you cut your first tooth, learned how to crawl or when you took your first steps.

But, I am a woman who cannot imagine it being possible to love you any more than if I had done all those things. My love for, and deep commitment to you is because of you, the person you are, not because we share genetics.

Jake, I love you because you're YOU. In the entire universe, I was chosen to be your stepmother and for that, I am truly blessed.

Love,

Carrie

Disconnected

For a long while now I have had this overwhelming need to reconnect to my childhood by visiting the various houses, schools and neighborhoods I grew up in. I have this unsettling feeling of being disconnected; without an anchor and I'm not sure what to do.

The one constant connection I had to my childhood was my Grandmother but when she passed away five years ago she took that link with her. I never imagined how empty my heart would feel when I could no longer reach out and touch her.

A couple of weeks ago I took a road trip back to the little town I (mostly) grew up in. I took pictures of several of the houses we lived in as well as schools I attended. I drove through the various neighborhoods I hung around and passed houses where friends once dwelled.

I visited the cemetery where my brother, paternal grandparents and great-grandparents are buried near an aunt I never knew and an uncle who died too soon.

Although this little town holds so much of my family's history, secrets, nightmares and memories, I finally reconciled the fact that it was not my "home". It never was and it never would be.

Instead, my home is here, with my wonderful husband and boys. It always has been and forever it will be.