When my mom was up last, she and I sat down by the river and had a nice, long chat. Mainly about how happy she was that I had finally moved and was able to shake that cloud hovering over my head. She knew just as well as I did that the house served only as my prison, and I needed escaping.
She then told me that one thing good did come from all of this, that I was a much stronger person now than I was two years, or even ten months, ago.
My family has always called me the "Rock." Meaning that whenever there was a problem, they knew that they could count on the fact that I could hold things together. When my sister died, that's really when my strength was first noticed. I was fifteen.
That is how I got the nickname in high school of "heartless monster." I didn't let the stupid, little, petty things get to me. I didn't have time to waste on "high school drama."
Well, I started thinking about what my mother had said, and I was wondering if what she was talking about was really strength or cynicism. Had I become a stronger person than the already solid rock that I was, or did I just take on a new perspective of the world? Am I stronger, or just a cynic?
You are just a better Meredith if you ask me. No label needed!
ReplyDeleteYou are stronger-- but it is a good stronger!
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