I don’t have a name. I don’t know what to do. I am not the person I used to be…

I had a cheering section. I had someone who shared stories with me, often when I had absolutely no interest in the person, or the story. Often when I had no time to listen. I had someone to come when I needed. Who would drive 9 hours across the prairie for me. Who would buy a plane ticket on credit, never minding the balance at the end. Who would boast, who would share, who would hover, who would say, “Look at my amazing daughter”.  

I had an introvert, with an influence of calm, and stillness, and patience.                                                                                                     I had an extrovert, with a laugh that could fill the night sky across a still lake.                                                                                              I was grounded with instructions, and confidence, and faith. 

I was navigating through steady and certain waters, and then the first wave came, washing over my landscape and shifting the anchor. And before the water stilled, before the sand rested on a new plain, the second wave hit, the anchor floated away, and with it, my first beginnings, my new beginnings, my home.