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gone. Not forgotten

I'm getting nastologic as 2015 winds down.

And you know that feeling of "I've accomplished sooo much"

yet have little to show for your efforts?

Yea, I've sadly got that.

Because, you know, I kinda want more...

More submissions in the ether...

More requested material...

More feedback...

Heck - I'd even take more rejections just to staunch the waiting.

On second thought, scratch that last one :)

Because I am also grateful.

For my health.

For my two healthy, off the wall, make me smile everyday, kiddos.

For my husband who challenges and infuriates, but also supports and understands me.

For my sisters who lift me up when I need it, and knock me down for the same.

For my parents who forgave all my teenage-angsty digressions,

and believe in the woman I've become.

Oh - but just as important - for all the voices in my head

yelling at me to write their stories:

Their tragic histories,

their buried desires,

their disturbing truths.

Cause let's face it,

we're all a bit disturbed,

but it's more fun to write out someone else's issues.

I still wish I'd taken more pictures of the kids,

that I'd prioritized them ahead of my naps on occasion

(even though those naps were truly needed).

I wish I'd held onto my thin thread of patience just a few seconds more

rather than vent my frustration on the nearest person

which often happened to be my crazy kids.

Mom of the year I was not

but my husband tells me different

and I'll hold onto that for awhile.

Hold onto the little things,

and the little people,

for as long as you can.

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