Prompt: The Waiting Titled: "Childhood Won't Wait"

"Mommy, can I have ...?"
"Mommy, can we go...?"
"Mommy, doesn't that look cool?  Can we buy it?"

Sometimes it feels my whole life is waiting.  Waiting for the economy to turn so my answers aren't always:

"No, we need to wait awhile for that."
"No, we need to spend our money to keep the lights on."
"No, we just can't do that right now."

It's so easy to get tangled in the "no's," to spend my life dreaming and waiting for the tides to turn, the money to come.  It's easy to long for the lives I see others having.  Surely all these special experiences are good for their kids. They are giving theirs so much more than I can give mine.

Sometimes I want to sit and fume and weep.  Why must the answer always be no?
I cannot let my life be consumed by the waiting.

I can still:

Give them hugs.
Read them stories.
Borrow new books from the library.

I can still:

Play with them in the yard.
Listen to their hopes and dreams.
Talk with them while we eat.

We may not be able to afford sign ups for sports teams, tutus for ballet classes, or guidance in art.
But our backyard was made for running.  We can still kick and toss balls.  My girls can dance around, even without expert teaching.  And we get enough junk mail, there are always one-side-blank pages for art.

I have to remember:

Sometimes the waiting tempts me. 
I sit and dream and cry.
But no matter what I'm waiting for,
Their childhood is passing by.

And my choice is to live it.

Prompt: "Playing House" Title: "Holding On"

It is fun for awhile. Everything is new.

I hang my wedding dress in the empty closet and unwrap gifts.  My dishes match the potholders and the clock.  Everything is picture perfect and new.  He greets me with a kiss each night.


Twelve years later, I sit.  To my left, there are 3 small faces smiling at me from a frame, 3 faces gazing with such trust.  To my right are letters: letters from the morgage company, letters from the IRS, letters from the credit cards companies, the power bill, doctor bills, hospital bills.  I hear him snoring on our matress on the floor.

Now, I need to know.  Were we just playing house or did we build a home? 

For a home is something I can never walk away from.  It is not just fun and games.  More than fun, it goes deeper, connecting all five of our hearts.  This is no time to play, only time to work and work again.

We may not keep our house but, with hard work, we can keep our family.  Our family is our true home.