I like black. Ok. Black makes white pop on a canvas. Black makes definition and edge. White adds space. It adds a brightness to art. And black brings depth. Shadow.
So black sheep bring the contrast to a family. Black sheep give amazing black wool. And we make black sweaters and scarves with it.
Black sheep taste the same as white sheep. They bleed the same. And black sheep have white sheep and visa versa. Color really has nothing to do with it. But what we believe about color is what its about. It's what we associate to a color that controls how we feel about.
Everyday, there is light. And every evening that light reflects agains the moon to give us moon light. In the morning, we see the couch is there. On the evening, in the dark, we must remember where it is and be careful to not over step and slam into it. And then you have a bad experience In The dark. Add them up. And if your not good with where your things are and maneuvering in darkness, you'll probably have a bad opinion of the dark.
We have associations with things. And from what I am observing my Mama has trouble with me speaking up and asking questions and showing up unannounced. She's a little fearful. About me? My words have scared her in some way? Strange. She takes things so hard. Well. I guess if I was her. I would take it hard too.
My truths a big steak. And it's hard to chew and swallow. Believe me I know. I lived through it. And made it out. What a ride. Especially since my Mama was gone. What do I do? Well. I did my best. If that's not good enough for Mama. Well. What can I say? Should of told me? Should have left me a note? Like what can you say?
I guess I've struck her dumb? She's speechless. That's surprising for sure. We love to talk. But what really is going on with my Mama? I can extrapolate all I want. And try to hit all the hot spots to maybe jar her tongue loose. But what I really want is a heart to heart with her. Time with her. Time to make some good memories with her. While I've got time?
Maybe cook together? What is so crazy about wanting to be with your Mama? What's so wrong with wanting to cook, clean, play, shop, mow, cry, laugh, and maybe even yell? Isn't that what families do? All that stuff?
But not adopted children's families I guess? Not with her? Maybe? What's up. It's got me upset. What's wrong with my Mama? She's not working right? How do I fix her? Does she need batteries? Or fluid? Maybe some gas will bring her to life? Or maybe a song? I could sing her heart back to life maybe? Oh what oh what?
My loyalty doesn't seem to mean much? What value can I bring to this family? Truth? I can speak truth. I am an excellent prayer. And I cook a mean meal. I am a good nurse. I clean house damn good. And pay attention to where things go. What would make my Mama want me? This time?
I am not a cute baby anymore. That didn't work last time. Darn. She's a tough one. Brains? Not sure if she cares about a daughter with a good brain? She hasn't read any books I have suggested. Or she has not told me she has?
I recent sent her some flowers. But no response. If I am quiet to long she forget I am still alive. She's lived a long time without me. I guess if anyone else dies. She'll just go on like nothing's happened at all? She's tough.
I can't tell her I won't die. Cuz we all do. But I can offer her the heart within me. That's loved her since I was inside her. That's my truth. I still love a woman that could treat me like this. And that's not a bad truth at all.
But black sheep aren't bad. I'm just different than she thought I'd be. Just different. Not dead. And I feel that's something we could build on.
Til the day one of us does die. Cuz the day will come again. When we will be separated. But not today. For me at least. I'm still here, loving her. On and on. Round and round. Daughter love their Mamas. Even when they tank. It's the getting up and trying again that fuels the fire. Not the falling down. We all fall. Even me. I feel in love with my Mama. And I never stopped.
Thanks for stopping by and reading my mental meanderings.