Spent the weekend doing family stuff...the local mountain sponsored KidsFest (tons of freebies, raffles, bouncy houses, dancers, singers, skyride on the ski chairlifts, food, food and more food!!) on Saturday and then yesterday I went with the kids and my amother to our old hometown and watched their 250th anniversary parade. And as I sat there, in the rain, watching the parade, I got a little choked up. Because I felt like a fraud.
I sat under the tents that my uncle's brother-in-law had set up outside of his gas/service station on Main Street. I chatted with my aunts...ate delicious chili and steamed hot dogs and ribs...broke up no less than five fights between my kids...drank homemade hot apple cider...picked up my sensitive son when the fire engine sirens (and the horns honked and the cannons blasted) started to wail during the parade. And yet...sitting there watching the floats go by, I felt tears welling up in my eyes. Because as much as my hometown is a part of my life..and the stories of what the 200th parade was like with my mom, uncles and grandfather all participating...I always wonder what memories I'd have had of my nmom's hometown had I had the chance to experience that. I know that it's not good to dwell on the "What ifs"...but it's my life and rather than stuff the feelings of loss down like usual, I'm welcoming them.
One step closer to healing...
Therapy tonight...we're going to work on the stuttering shit. I'm not looking forward to it.
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