It was a strange thing. I decided to work outside tonight to read my emails after a long busy day of meetings. There is a chill in the air and someone in the distance has a bonfire going. Even though it’s spring it reminded me of my childhood times when we would go camping on our boat with all my dad’s friends.
I could
close my eyes and remember the laughter and the times when we would all just
sit around and poke the fire. My dad’s
friend Henry would always pick a long fire stick but by the end of the weekend
it was always much shorter. We’d eat all
our meals from the fire. I remember covering potatoes and onions with the
ladies to put around the coals and how delicious they would be. I remember one
particular summer when I am pretty sure we listened to Eric Clapton’s Journeyman
album on repeat, when I fell in love with the sound of any song played by Stevie
Ray Vaughn (I did cry when he died).
I
remember swimming in water that was freezing and washing my hair in the water. I miss having a boat more than my heart can
tell you sometimes.
As I was
sitting her with cold hands (currently listening to Eric) and my heart is so
warm.
My
childhood was riddled with trauma that I am working hard to heal from, I’m
changing the narrative of my life of “what’s wrong with me” to “what happened
to me” and learning to grow in and from it.
It’s easy for me to remember in the middle of healing and growing to
feel hurt and forget the really good things.
I am so thankful for my frozen hands and the smell of campfire to bring
some joy to my heart.
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