Something woke me up in the middle of the night. I'm not sure if it was a grumbling tummy, Moonli having digestive issues or strange noises in the house. It could also be that I stirred up some emotions earlier tonight that haven't surfaced in a while, leaving me gasping a little bit for air.
It is challenging telling new people your story. Moving to a new town guarantees that you'll get to tell your story, a lot. You want them to know you, to know your truth and why you think you're here and now. And I feel comfortable telling most people on the surface my history, the cards I was dealt and the amazing life I choose to live now. But every now and then things get a little deeper, the scab gets peeled back a little bit, exposing vulnerability. Exposing the grief that normally lies dormant but is always there.
So rather than lay awake, willing myself to fall asleep, ignoring how I process things even if it's in the middle of the night - I grabbed a piece of bread to quiet my tummy and grabbed my laptop. I cried, I listened to Alexi Murdoch and whistled for Makiah to come upstairs. She's falling more and more in love with Moonli. She used to always sleep in the bedroom with me. But since King Tut got a new plush dog bed, he spends his time downstairs, and she practically curls up with him. I can't blame her. But tonight I needed her close so I could hear her familiar sounds.