Sometimes I miss the year of tear-stained cheeks.
Not the piercing pain. Or the perpetual confusion. And definitely not the ever-vigilant fear.
But the constant reminder of what really matters.
And what is just noise.
It was like the trauma itself acted as a filter. In order for something to register, it had to be at least as loud as the pain.
And that left quite a bit disregarded on the floor, rated as unimportant compared to the major life themes coursing through my mind on a daily basis.
I found myself surprised by some of the experiences that did register. A respite in the February sun trilled louder than my keening. Appreciation for a surprise snack of succulent fruit sounded above the din of my panicking brain. I accepted invites without hesitation, regardless of what tasks needed to be accomplished by some pressing deadline.
I have allowed myself to forget this lesson.
With no filter in place to separate the critical from the inconsequential, I have permitted the noise to deafen me.
Apparently I need a refresher course.
Be Where You Are for Dummies, Part II.
Class is in session.