I wrote this in a note on Facebook, and then decided to share here too. Sorry for the double up for those who are on my FB list. Am also linking for both weekend grateful and FYBF. It's been THAT sort of week.
The mother walked, bent double under her load. On her back were her children, her career, her aging parents, her friends - though who, when and what changed as needed. Her face pale with perspiration, her legs shaking with effort, she put one foot in front of the other, constantly moving forward though sometimes at a snail's pace. Some days her children were dead weights, exhausted, stressed, the pressures of school, social acceptance, conforming wearing them out.
Other days they were as light as feathers, and she needed to tie a string from her heart to theirs so they did not float away with happiness and laughter. And on the terrible, black, heavy days when she thought her back would break, the load would suddenly lighten and the pain lessen and she would look to her side where she had not realised her loving partner or a dear friend had appeared, and they would say: "Hey, I'm here. Do not worry, let me carry some of it for a while whilst you learn to breathe freely again."
Thank you my friends and husband for allowing me to exhale.