I have come to this place where I write my heart and preserve my family’s memories only forty-four times this year. I mourn the loss of my writing days. I read things I’ve written in the past and wonder, “Who is that person? How did she express herself so freely? What happened to her?”
That person is still me, but now I am “in the trenches”. It’s a phrase my mother-in-law uses often to describe this period of my life. It fits. I am doing daily battle with laundry, homework, teenage emotions, activities, church callings, adult stress and middle age. It’s rough and wonderful and hard and rewarding. I find myself being needed and used up on a daily basis to the point that at the end of the day there is just nothing left to give to this space of mine for writing. I drag my worn out body up to bed each night and practically fall asleep reading my scriptures and a little Sherlock Holmes.
In the midst of trench life, this beautiful daughter of mine turned sixteen. If I could go back, I’d tell sixteen year old me to be best friends with sixteen year old Hannah. She’s got grace and humor and creativity and flair. She makes me laugh so hard! She’s such a bright corner of my world.
She’s going through some difficult things with friends at school right now. It has been hard to be an observer, but I’m grateful she talks to me and is making choices that will keep her safe, healthy and happy. I keep reminding her high school is such a brief period of time even though it seems like it’s the whole world right now.
In the next few weeks I plan (tentatively) to write about some of our trench experiences. The things that have been happening are helping to shape us, refine us and cement who we are and who we want to be. Our kids are learning and we are learning from them. The battle is real.
Reporting from the trenches,