As the Words

There seems to be so little time

Or

Is it because there is too much time now as the road narrows?

Yet the words continue to spill out as the steps become slower and

I continually must wonder

Do I say too much or

Not enough?

Am I so cautious that the brutal truth is hidden in frothy adjectives and ambiguous phrases

Or

Does any of it matter

when truth (like always) is tightly wrapped between wishful thinking and cruel realities.

And we admit only those words that allow survival to open the iron door to our hearts.

So today, I have begun a project that undoubtedly began the first day I held a pencil.

Time has released me from the confines of guilt and allows the luxury of unblemished truth.

And of course, the confines of “The Family,” no longer apply.

I am no longer at risk of rejection (life has taught while difficult, survival becomes a possibility.)

Also, I am the only one left who was there or allowed to view (from the fragile veil of innocence,) a woman who was only known as “Marm.”

I will strive to find the girl who loved being called “Nellie,” before becoming “Marm” a. title that destroyed youth and beauty and health and possibly emotional stability.

And I hope by telling her story, I may find answers to my own if God allows the words to keep spilling out.

And perhaps I will finally meet my Grandmother.