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I’m having one of those “alien” days.

The kind where you feel like a foreigner in your own land.

I’ve written about this before – about the feeling that you belong, but not quite. The longing for something more.

It’s the hope of heaven. The promise of a real home.

And it’s not that I’m discontent where I’m at.

The opposite really – I love my home, my family, the life we’ve built.

But I know there’s more.

Perhaps it has something to do with returning from a place (Sydney) where I always feel a glimpse of destiny. A something “other” that I don’t even know how to pinpoint.

Perhaps it has something to do with remembering what it’s like to connect with friends from a special (favorite) season of my life.

But whatever it is, the feeling is there. Real, raw, a little bit nagging.

The calm after the storm and the anticipation of the next one all rolled into one.

And I remember that I’m an alien here.

I really don’t belong.

My passport says USA. My address says Australia. But my heart says heaven.

My home is not here.

STOP.

 

Q for you: Do you ever feel like you belong, and yet don’t belong?

 

Love,
A

 

Click Clink Five | Five minutes a day, unedited

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I’m a forgetter

I am a forgetter.

That’s why I have a few things I have to put into place so that I don’t lose my mind:

Important things have places: Keys have a place, handbag has a place, camera has a place, passports have a place, chapstick has several places.

I write lists: groceries, chores, emails to return, thank yous to write, errands to run, movies i want to watch, books i want to read, people i want to call, sewign projects I want to do, dinner menus, a long-standing packing list that I can change/edit as needed, home projects I want to conquer, blog post ideas (this is so not one of them).

I blog and journal and write.

I take photos.

Yup, lots of ways I cope with my forgetfulness. (I know I’m forgetting some!!)

But there is also a plus side to being forgetful…

I sometimes (often, actually) forget the hard stuff.

I forget disagreements. I forget bouts of sickness. I forget periods of self-doubt or insecurity.

Really, I do. (Most of the time at least.)

I’m not making this up. I actually forget.

Maybe someone would say that I block out the bad stuff? I don’t think so, becuase the major (hard) stuff is still crystal clear in my memory. It’s just that I tend to remember the highlights more than the lowlights.

And I like that about myself, as frustrating as the rest of my forgetfulness is.

Why did I start to write this post in the first place? I seriously can’t remember. (Not saying that to be funny or cute… there’s nothing cute about forgetfulness. Arg.)

And now look, it’s ridiculous. ANother ridiculous one.

Sorry guys. I’m up past my bedtime. Again.

STOP.

 

Q for you: Are you a forgetter? Does it drive you nuts? Or are you glad?

 

Love,
A

p.s. I’ve been thinking about deep stuff so much lately. Guess I just needed to think/write about something… shallow?

 

Click Clink Five | five minutes a day, unedited
Adriel also writes on motherhood and parenting at The Mommyhood Memos