The Good Worth Fighting For

I hold my son’s hand. Small, smooth little fingers and tiny nails bring a smile to my face. I realize how lucky I am to be his mother, to see his smile to hear his laugh. He’s in a wild stage, growing faster than I can keep track and getting into everything.

My daughter is becoming a young adult and I can see from the way her eyes light up when she talks about something that interests her that she has a small fiery passion inside of her. A passion I see blossoming into something beautiful and fierce.

I love my children, and it hurts me when I am feeling so low that I can’t do as much with them as I would like. But I can do little things. It’s fun to see my daughter’s excitement when I read her a chapter from the Narnia books, and it’s a delight when my son eagerly builds things with me using his blocks.

My kids are a joy to me. I will never stop loving them. There are times however when I feel significantly challenged by motherhood. Times when I wish I were better equipped.

I’ve been in recovery mode for some time now, and for a while I lost my ability to hold a conversation. This frightened me with regards to what my son would learn from me, but my three year old seems to be developing his language at a healthy pace. He’s already constructing sentences and telling me his fears and his dreams.

I love it when he tells me about his dreams. Recently he’s been dreaming about a “big spider.” It doesn’t seem to frighten him as much as fascinate him, at least that’s my impression when his eyes grow wide and he raises his voice with glee as he recounts what happened in dream land.

I’ve picked up the ukulele again. Something that I’d neglected when I first entered my last string of major health issues. But I’ve started playing again. And I’ve even been lucky enough to pluck the strings along with some friends. My fingers have even developed calluses.

So I play in my living room, while the artist draws. He has been a huge support to me. I don’t know what I would have done without him. He’s been my safe harbor so many times, I know I can trust him implicitly.

And he creates so many beautiful things. He even made a series of artwork during inktober inspired by my unique and personal experiences. I love him so much for that. I want to create beautiful things out of my experience too. I want to let go of the bad and embrace the good.

And so life continues. I’m still wandering, but that is not necessarily a bad thing. And I recently fell in love with the Lord of the Rings movies all over again. At the end of Two Towers Sam gives a speech to Frodo. It’s beautiful, and it made me cry.

And it was good to cry. For so long I was unable to. For so long I was just stuck and not moving anywhere. But it’s coming out now. My emotions are more freely felt.


Author: Larissa Hammond

Librarian. Writer. Mom.

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