New Birth

I am alive. I know, I know... That kind of goes without saying, since I'm sitting here, pounding away at a keyboard... But, really, I'm ALIVE. I've spent so long just EXISTING, and I didn't realize the difference. Sure, I wasn't exactly pleased with the course my life had taken, but I couldn't complain, either. My husband worked and came home and at least claimed out loud that he loves me. I like my job, though I feel like my intelligence isn't being used to its utmost. I had wanted to get my doctorate in pharmacy at one time, but was satisfied to do what I do in the interest of my husband's happiness (which was probably the first in a very long line of mistakes). I was content to be a cake-eater, going to school book fairs and taking the kids to the movies and cooking dinner for my husband and being proud of my 2-story house with a pool in the back yard and two cars in the driveway. Now, in the past week, it's like I've been awakened. I can't even really describe it. My household and everything that I have come to know and depend on has been ripped apart, but I can smell honeysuckle and exhaust fumes and burning leaves - things I've never taken the time to pay attention to before. I can hear birds and the sound of my children's laughter and see the different colors in clouds and feel the salty sea air on my face. Honestly, I had stopped noticing how beautiful my surroundings are. How could I live this close to the beach and not notice the sound of the waves? How could I have a yard-full of flowers and never notice their intoxicating scents? How could I drive toward the ocean every day on my way to work and not notice the sun coming up over the water? Home come I never noticed just how much of my husband's presence (and how little of my own) exists in my house? How could I just take so much for granted? I don't know. Time. Unforeseen circumstances. How much have I missed? Too much, I fear, as hundreds of better wordsmiths than I have waxed philosophical about the precious nature of each moment we are given, and I have surely wasted millions. Alas, there's no use fretting over it. I am alive NOW, and I intend to LIVE from now on. My goals from now on are simple. I intend to never let my children wonder if they are loved or not, and I'll fight any bastard that even makes them THINK about wondering. I intend to never let another day go by that I don't notice how wondrous the earth is. I intend to do something to take care of myself every day (seems easy, I know, but it isn't easy for me...). I intend to laugh, to sing, and to shimmy as often as I can, even if someone is watching, and even if they tell me that my music is stupid. I intend to hold my head up high, to feel the wind in my hair, to face everything that's coming my way, and to never let anyone make me feel like less of a person again. And I intend to start treating every day just like what it is: a gift. I choose to break out of existence and begin living my life right now. November 22, 2007 is my new day of birth, the dawn of my new beginning. Although the events of that day are the stuff of nightmares, I hope, for my sake, that I never forget them. I awakened from that nightmare to this new life, this life of forced independence, this life of scary uncertainty, this life of sleepless nights and constant watchfulness. The important thing, though, is that I awakened at all. I don't want to waste another moment of this precious life.