I have an anchor. A person who calms my heartbeat with his every inhale and exhale. Make no mistake, he's still breathing, and my heart's still beating... we are just countless miles apart.
Right in front of me is the epitome of me. She's supposed to be us, and I see mostly him when I look at her...ears, nose and eye color, long limbs...Those things come from him. But her every word and her over active mind, her logic somehow has been derived from me. Inside me lives our next one, our boy baby, the baby kangaroo. And as much as I love my baby girl, as much pride as I have in my personality and therefore hers...I desperately hope that this next baby isn't like me.
Except that sounds so harsh.
The truth of the matter is that I really wouldn't mind another baby who pops out with my personality...As long as I have an anchor around to hold my own personality in check. Because what he does to my heartbeat, he does for our children as well.
Harmony can exist.
Without that anchor I can become mean. Worse, I can become bitter. Depression and anxiety can threaten to roll in and out almost like clockwork, if I were to allow it.
We're in a strange place, my anchor and I. We're apart geographically...there's no doubting that. And we both suffer for it. But we're on the same page: In love, in dreams, in hope. And we both suffer for that as well.
