The closet.

(this picture has nothing to do with my post, I just thought it was awesome.)

Today I woke up to rain.
The kind of rain that is loud and makes it hard to get out of bed.

But I did.

I got up and did the routine. 

 Breakfast, making lunches, trying really hard to do my 

girl's hair and prayers before school.

After the girls left, the boys were in the living room

 fighting over who got to be Indiana Jones. 

 Then Jimmy did a silent toot 

(while he was jumping up to the table to eat the left-over toast crust), 

and they laughed, which was the end of that fight/discussion.

I was in the laundry room folding clothes. My clothes. 

And for some reason, my mind wandered off to the day months ago when

Courtney took me to her guest room.

She showed me where some of my clothes had been kept 

since the accident and the big move to Utah.
She left me alone and went to the closet touching all the clothes. 

 It was like I was touching a dead woman's dresses. 

 It was so strange. I felt dead, yet I was alive-just different.
I even went so far as to smell them.
It smelled like me. 

 Me in Arizona. 

Me in Arizona, going to church, going on dates, smiling, 

laughing, creating, and playing with my children.
I cried and sat down on Courtney's guest bed.
A wave of emotion took me for a few minutes.
I missed me again. I mourned for that woman!
I left that room, taking nothing home. It was not time.

After I loaded the laundry in my washer, 

I felt that familiar sadness. But then it was followed by a 

beautiful, spiritual confirmation that this is my new life.

 It is good. It is oh, so good!!
And then I felt I should go down the street to Courtney's house and

to that closet and bring home me.

Because it is still me.
And those clothes will still fit.