Finding your place in the world is not something that ever really gets resolved. It seems to constantly change, just when you get a little bit comfortable, thinking you know where you belong, who is important to you, who you matter to, the place you were sitting, happily enjoying your little life, becomes a seat in a world totally unfamiliar to you. Navigating foreign waters, pretty much in your own boat with no crew, is very scary and very lonely. I am in that sea right now, trying to figure out where to go, what to do, who I am...I just have no idea, and I feel thrown overboard and a little bruised from the tossing.

There were days that I could not stand leaving or having him leave or even the thought of either of us going anywhere but right where we were - warm and comfortable and happy and safe in each other's arms. There are days now when that is still true, and that is what continues to save me, as it always has and he always does. I know that I am lucky.

"See, he calms her down, as opposed to driving her crazy."
"What's that supposed to mean...are you saying I drive you crazy?"
"It means exactly what I said. There's the difference in the relationships right there."

Most relationships can probably be analyzed down to that basic concept.

A. You're taking a ride to crazytown or steering the car.
B. You're being talked down from the ledge your little piggies are presently hanging over or you're untying someone else's straight jacket.

Really, I think that's pretty much it.

As my Christmas shopping is winding down, I find myself - as I do every year - thinking that I have not purchased enough; I have not spent enough money; I have not picked out the perfect gift for each and every person on my list. This year, however, I am fighting the urge to splurge. I do NOT have to outdo myself; I do NOT have to outdo everyone else; I do NOT have to spend every extra red cent (well, really more brownish-orange than red) that I happen to have. I no longer have to prove to my mother that I am a thoughtful and giving person. I know that I am; God knows that I am, nothing else matters. So, I am done....well, maybe just one small thing.....

I don't know exactly what the book, FLAGS OF OUR FATHERS, is about, as I have not read it - I am bogged down with reading materials, thank you very much! - but bags of our mothers, now there's something that I know! I have come to understand that the "baggage" spoken about, especially when discussing relationships, has very little to do with our own Samsonite, and more to do with the luggage our mothers carried. If we let them, and as daughters, most of us do, they will pile their trunks and cosmetic cases on our backs to carry for them throughout our lives. No wonder girls are constantly being told to stand up straight!

Although I have desperately tried to save my own daughter from this, I know that there has been spillage. I don't mean for it to happen; it just does. It is impossible to have a meaningful relationship with your child without showing your worst self - the overused and overstuffed pieces that make up the carpet bags of who and what you are. Many people, my own mother included, choose to keep these pieces hidden away, never to be seen by anyone or discussed in front of company, or talked about at all really, but this (fortunately?) is not my way. I need everything out in the open for the world to see. So, if my delicates get thrashed about in public, well, that's just the price for taking the trip.