A Childhood Worth Mourning
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A Childhood Worth Mourning

AUGUST 2020


I have always loved the character Jo March from the book Little Women. I have often found myself relating to Jo, but it wasn't until this year, after re-watching the newest film version, that I learned why I so often felt Jo's pain. Jo always had trouble letting go of her childhood, she mourned the loss of it, and so do I.


2020 has brought many challenges for everyone in the world and mine seem so small to most other people, but they're big to me. Though I say the year 2020 has brought the challenges, I know God has ordained all things to happen for a purpose. I just don't know those purposes yet, though I know they'll beautiful.


I miss normal. I miss my childhood. Taking adventures hasn't ever really been my "thing". I enjoy the here, the now, the past. This year has brought me fear and discomfort. It has brought me emotional pain and hurt. The hardest decisions I've ever had to make to date; decisions made concerning life, relationships within the family and a boyfriend. It has brought change without warning.




Haven has moved out and though I still see him every day, it's not the same. I miss when we were young, playing in the woods together. I miss sitting together to read. I miss singing in the kitchen together, as we made breakfast. I miss looking out the window while washing dishes and seeing Haven stack firewood. I miss being with him, always. I miss knowing where he is all the time. I miss my childhood with him.



I miss early Saturday mornings with dad, when we would sneak out of the house to take off the trash and run errands, then getting a sausage biscuit and a chocolate milk. I miss the big comfy chair that used to sit on our front porch and snuggling with mom in it. I miss fishing dates with Papaw Dwight and the peanut butter crackers we ate. I miss Grandma's Saturday morning breakfast. I miss helping Mamaw Sharrol around the house and watching our black and white movies. I miss day trips with Papaw George and the Roadside Rest burgers. I miss my little green fleece jacket I wore on cool fall mornings. I miss the Bernstein Bear mug; I drank hot chocolate from. I miss spending the night at Mamaw Atlas’ house. I miss going to Dale's store for a stale Crunch bar. I miss going to Griffith's General Store and seeing Frank. I miss Mamaw Daisy's cooking and Granny's smile. I miss glass bottle cokes and peanuts as rewards after a long day's work.






I miss the dreams I once had, the fantasies I once imagined. You know the ones, where everyone loved everyone, equally and willingly.


I miss the feeling of not knowing what taxes and insurance was. What due dates and deadlines mean. I miss a time when money wasn't important. I miss a time when pedophiles, war and government didn't constantly weight on my mind.


I miss the times when ice cream took away all the feelings of disappointment, when Mom's hugs took always all the fear and the deadbolted door protected me from the world at night. But now things are much more complicated than that. I guess I miss the joy and ignorance I once I had.




I was very blessed with a very happy and good childhood, and sometimes it's hard to let the good things go, even when you know something beautiful is coming in its place.

I miss all the good things my childhood gave me and as humans, we were made to mourn the loss of something good. I wish I could go back and share my childhood with my younger siblings, because though their childhood is beautiful, I wish it was as simple and as good as mine.



I don't mean to complain, just taking a minute to remember. Just taking the time, to be thankful. I'm thankful for the good things God is giving me now, and I am looking forward to the beautiful things God will give me, because He is good and faithful. And now, knowing how much of my childhood I took for granted, I will try to take nothing of my life now for granted.







And right now, Heidi is stringing green beans and I'm making supper, while we sing to John Denver. It's a good evening.


And no I'm not crying, its the onions I'm chopping for supper.



 


 


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