— Mel Morrison
Dear little me,
I fall asleep dreaming and imagine you at nine, roller skating around the rink and at twelve climbing trees high enough to reach the stars. I imagine you at fourteen, catching fireflies on those warm summer nights. Chills awaken me. You are not real, painful lost memories chasing me in my dreams. The “Do you remembers?” which I do not, that ache! My dried up tears of my grieving years flood my soul, but what is lost is my new norm. I must let you go.
Brace Yourself! Two unprecedented storms came like thieves in the night dissolving my memories like snow. Shattered pieces of debris remain in me and nothing much of you is left. If I knew I would face such storm’s destruction, I would tell you do not face it alone. Fight the good fight.
Capture every moment! I gaze at pictures of you little me, looking for a glimmer of familiarity. Nothing! Only a stranger stares back. “Memory lane” is a ghost town of empty graves I cannot recall, from kindergarten to my wedding day. The pictures of “used to be” are lifeless without a story, just ghostly remains without reflection, and a corpse on a blank canvas. Stay focused.
Guard your Heart and Soul! Oh little me, brewing storms seek to steal and destroy you and raging seas will toss you like wreckage and devour you until you are torn. Find what you are made of and whom you will trust. Then you can let go and trust the path ahead.
Hope Restored: In the wake of these storms, debris has washed ashore and what is lost is gone, but I found my refuge and my strength. My old self is gone, but God is making things new. Keep climbing, and chasing your dreams. Create new memories.
Little me, Storms can devour or deliver. Have you found the one whom you will trust and choose?