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That step before rebuilding (yes). The Memorial Day

This is an important week: those who metaphorically equivalent to an uphill battle to make the race as a jury, or qalcosa like, evaluate your performance.
And this definitely makes me wake up very badly, in this Monday "special."
This week I will write and deliver a letter of dismissal.
I will not dwell in detail: motherhood got to do, but not only that. It 's time in life when you have to make choices, and decide the way to carry on, do a recap of what you believe without knowing if that is the way to check, assess any relationship of cost and benefit, and most importantly, This is the hard part, giving up a smokescreen that makes life a little (I stress a little) easier from an economic standpoint, but certainly empty and no prospects.
What then, as I have said many times, economic security, even though poor these days that it does not suck. Especially if you have kids. But
Care is hardly just that. There are "chair" on which you are comfortable, but enough to make you drown difficult, then, get up, when I feel the desire and the need to stretch your legs. In this chair and I have been sitting there for long, for so long that I have subordinated this difficult decision blocking all other creative activities that I could put in place to make a difference to my future.
tear down to rebuild: let this be known, since hand over the letter, "here in my part," there will be a huge building site.
invent, invest, hope and believe: that the hard part of life.
choose without knowing where I'll end up, but with the certainty that I do not only for myself but for the hope that, even economically, may one day go better than today. But in the meantime before me there is a limbo of uncertainty, and certainty in the period of "blank" necessary to put the cards on the table.
I know some of you have done. So I know that I understand.
I have that tension in my stomach that I was deferred indefinitely this time, and agitation that makes me think "I wonder if I'll be up to the new situation."
It is called fear, and I think it is also legitimate.
I think of my father (what strange) that in another life, another time, another company, years ago, he put aside dreams and bent down to a quiet life and unsatisfactory. I think so because I realized how much he and I alike. I think of him, and I would have the courage that he at this point did not have: to tell the world, without too much noise, "I'm here too." And then I think of my mother, pragmatic, and his sermons on the fact that life is compromised, and that dreams do not pay: she did not follow her, but has pursued the economic certainties, to a very high price.
Then I think about my daughter and I struggle over what message my example of life left to you: Dreams are important or are cultivated in the garden only private?
What will make a difference that can make my small garden a place that other, even if not everyone will enjoy?

Ramblings morning, linked to further temper: my pc will assist in three days, and I will not have the normal use of my resources. Although I will not stay entirely unconnected, not as usual, and this makes me very annoyed. Not only because of labor issues, but also because I do everything online that relaxes me and relaxes me, and which now I find it hard to give up.

Here begins this week as well. With the precise knowledge of having to go running through a fire door.

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Today my post is here .
I thought for a long, long time and now I do, that the most important thing I would do to teach my daughter to love life.
And every day that passes I realize that the opposite is true : is she who is teaching me . because there is nothing greater than a child in an intense and genuine love for every day of his life .

And I read it in his eyes, when she wakes up smiling, as she falls asleep satisfied.

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Body (I) speaks

Hello belly.
You're finally coming back to "soft" after a long period of insensitivity. You
that maybe you could start to go smaller.
And instead I continue to cover, ignore, not to cure.
Sometimes "by mistake", I happen to stop and think. Sometimes I think that maybe you'll return to "normal."
An intervention that I was not expecting a result that did not know existed.
And we're going to take (all) a year and a half from that day: I, you and Bry.
I know that something is still wrong: it is to arrange, retrieve, straight and narrow path ... I know that something has to go back to the right place "between you and me."
I wish I could say "return", especially when I look at my photos a few years ago (and certainly not for aesthetics, but for the living to remember everything that brings with it) with the uncertainty of what no longer is. Actually I should ask you: "come back?" And no one can
know the future, we can only build it. But I do know that the past does not come back: I'll have to find new ways to re-invent.