The Journey Inward

Each and every year,
For the past several,
I have bought myself a gift,
A birthday gift,
Something shiny,
Or indulgent,
Or practical.
Something that just jumped out at me.
I've bought birthstone earrings,
A ring, a tote bag,
This year fun prescription sunglasses,
Always something special,
Always given in love.

Because this 55 year old "little girl",
Never got over feeling that she wasn't wanted,
Maybe from an embryo,
Maybe from birth or infancy,
Told for years she was a "pleasant surprise."
But empathizing when I got to my late 30's,
And my kids were all school age,
How my mother might have felt to hear the news,
Of another Little One,
Just on the brink of some freedom,
And perhaps a return to her career.

My mother loved me and did so well by me,
But she may not have always felt like this was the choice she'd have made,
And maybe I sensed that in some way,
Perhaps it's why I always felt separate and different and sensitive,
Like I didn't quite belong.

And because of this,
I nurture myself, love myself,
Treat myself and honor myself,
With a gift commemorating the day I was born,
The day the Universe sent for me
And I arrived.
Because I belonged here.
I belong here.