...and Creating Your Life Is Better than Waiting for It to Unfold

I know, I know, it sounds like a fridge magnet, but I'm beginning to get it.

The last two years I've been like some half-hatched bird, chipping away at my trappings with a busted egg-tooth, and now I'm ready for the next step - you know, the one that sends me hurtling through space wondering if these new wings will work.  A scary thing, jumping into the unknown, but I'm raising a daughter who deserves to grow up unafraid of her own shadow.  Being a role model to her is certainly a constant reminder to push through any doubts.

I learned a lot training for my marathon: start out small, don't get discouraged, carry a lot of beef, lean on your friends, and finish even if it hurts.  Time to use that lesson for something much more difficult - life.

...and Not Bowing to Society's Timeline Is Better than Missing an Opportunity

I've been spending a lot of time with someone lately.  A male someone.  We've known each other a while, too, and our friendship means a lot to me.  He means a lot to me.  For some, this is cause for concern; for me, this is cause for celebration.

Anyone who's known me knows my marriage was on shaky ground for years.  We kept trying because we have a daughter, and that's what you do - you try until you can't any longer.  I've mourned that relationship.  I've grieved for years, actually.  I'm ready to stop being sad.  Some say it's too soon to move on from that, though.  They say I need to be alone with that grief for a while and settle into this new chapter.  I disagree.  Something beautiful has presented itself.  I don't want to turn away from it just because society thinks I should wait.

And I've never had a romantic relationship with someone who was a friend first.  It's an amazing thing.  I'm enjoying it very much.  There's already trust and a certain level of comfort.  We like each other.  How fantastic is that?  He likes me.  What a gift.

...and Moving On Is Better than Stagnation

After fifteen years, my relationship with my daughter's father has ended. It's true what they say: You discover who really loves you when the chips are down.  My daughter and I have been living with friends for weeks, borrowing cars, and eating out of other's fridges.  It hasn't been the easiest of times, yet I've felt more free than I have in years.  Lighter.

Rhiannon loves her dad; she misses him.  That said, she does not miss the gloom that was our family atmosphere for as long as she can remember.  Yesterday, in the car, she said, "We're just happier now, huh?"  Indeed.  The time she spends with her father, however brief and infrequent, is quality time.  He takes her fun places.  They interact.  It's good.  She deserves that.  They get to make amazing new memories together.  I get to do that with her as well.

I signed the lease on a little house Friday.  The backyard is amazing. Rhiannon eats plums right from the tree and grape tomatoes from a raised garden bed. The grapes are tart - she says she'll wait a bit longer for those. She reads and draws while sitting on a tree stump.  We're painting her room a pale pink called Opal.  We haven't moved in furniture, but already my favorite people have spent time in its rooms.  It's a home.  Our home.

Happy.