Stove Top Timer

As I lie on our comfy living room sofa, windows open with feet bare to the breeze, I am replaying events of my life.  Some harmonious, some agonizing, I remember that without each second of struggle or pain, I wouldn't be the woman that I am.  I am thankful for the drive to have been able to kick and claw my way out of the multitude of difficult situations that have presented themselves in my twenty-seven years.  I have strong faith in my family, and the ones that continue to give me hope, as well as bring joy and advice.  What I do feel I have missed out on, is the opportunity to move past a larger, ongoing issue in my life that requires a great deal of forgiveness.

Forgiveness.

The word makes my stomach turn.  It feels like hard work.  I'm not over anger or resentment that I have for a life that would have been totally different had the recipe been right from the beginning.  

When you boil something, you don't leave it on the stove to burn.  

You man up and you handle it.  Use oven mitts if you need to.  Just take care of what you started- or don't bother being part of the cooking process to begin with.  You aren't granted the right to return on some unscheduled occasion for the finished product with hopes that it won't give you food poisoning.  You never know who might leave you in a painful fetal position on your bathroom floor.

But, I suppose some know all about that, right? 

I understand feeling embarrassment, or even shame in leaving behind something that you 

shouldn't only feel obligated to be a part of- but that you should want to be a part of.  This dish turned out just fine with the loving hands that came from elsewhere to clean up the mess and plate it well.  

Maybe in the future I can forgive.. but there's no forgetting how hot those flames were while you were gone, or how much it hurt to wonder why I sat waiting for the answers.  Not to mention uncertainty of other muffins and scones that I might be related to, or sob stories from numerous kitchen pals that were left to eat alone while you went about your business in your ongoing search for the next best dessert.  I hope that in time, I will hear the oven timer with the word 'forgiveness' painted down the side go off... but until then, I am in no hurry to revisit negative places while I continue to heal.  I just can't afford to.  It has taken me a long time to learn how to turn my head from the things that will keep on hurting.  In this moment, I am doing just that.  

And you'd do well to try and heal too, Dad.

Because I'd like to forgive.  You just need to work a LOT harder this time.