It took me some time to acclimate to this new life, having to share my private space with young people. The acclimation process is a waning and waxing one, maybe even in accordance with the moon's phases, or, hell, maybe opposing forces with the moon, for all I know.
I've always loved and adored and admired children, and I've always known my path was meant to be shared with them. I teetered between child psychology and elementary education and writing books for children, but I always knew I would work with children in some fashion.
As time tiptoed forward, I had found myself bathed in a selfish comfort, for my living space had always allowed me to have my own time and my own space to myself. Whenever and however I wanted it to be. For the most part.
Not anymore. At least, not always. Now, I've got others depending on me. Young others. I've got a responsibility I thought I had escaped when we found out we weren't meant to have children of our own. News we took like champs; I moreso than he, striving to stay true to my mainstay mantras: Everything happens exactly as it should; There are no accidents. The tears he wept in that small dr.'s office waiting room after receiving such news, saying it was an atrocity that I would not be able to have my own children, that I deserved to have my own children. Without hesitation, I said I was just happy we both had our health, and that the rest is out of our hands.
And now. There are children in our home. Not ones we created, but ones we manifested all the same.
Children who test us and make us question our decisions from one moment to the next. Children who make us clench our teeth & fists a little less often than they make our hearts thumpety-thump with more love than we knew was possible.
There's something fresh about the added noise, the constant interruptions, and the lack of time and space for myself; something I actually sometimes find appreciation in, now. It took me some time, but I'm here.
It seems as though everything great in my life always takes time for me to realize its magnitude and magnificence.
Leo the Late Bloomer is me to a T, I acknowledge it all the time. It's a running joke between me and the Universe.
There's no such thing as late... another mainstay mantra of mine.
You bloom, I bloom, We bloom.