So much of my mixed messages and so many of my old tapes are a result of my childhood. Yet when I look back, I am asked to go to a place where I see as a safe place, it was the farm. The place I couldn't wait to leave and wish I had it to go back to.
Those quiet times, even those stolen in the old outhouse when I was hiding from chores. Or the times in the hay loft of in the bins of grain, never mindful back then of allergies and dust, just the freedom of the moment and just hanging out.
Sometimes they were grasped because they were few and far between mainly because farming takes work. As many times as I may have complained, I can't think of anything better than being out in the fields picking wild strawberries. There is nothing to beat a wild strawberry pie. Like all good things good for me, it took lots and lots of work to get enough for the finished product.
How sad we can't take the time when it happens and only find the goodness of what we truly had by looking back in hindsight.
I feel so blessed to be able to see those moments in today and learn to live them and not run from them.
Hamilton has trees. That is what saved my sanity when I left the farm. It may be called the Steel City, and have polluted air and water in the bay, but it does have trees along the streets, parks, and I have a wonderful view of the bay which makes for good scenery on a sunny day. Wouldn't want to be on one because I can't swim and I can get sea sick in a bathtub, but they sure look peaceful and awesome when they are sailing along in the breeze.
I think that is what recovery is all about. Me being able to be alone with me.
