My Mother, My Anchor

At night I pace the sidewalks in the dark, up, down, and around the neighborhood, more comftorable in the dark then I ever am in the light. People can't see you in the dark. I walk when I'm thinking, as if my feet can't stand to be still while my mind is racing. But sometimes I feel like I'm walking to get away from my thoughts, hoping perhaps they'll get lost in the hovering sky.

Nights have always been the hardest for me. As the light weakens, so does my heart and my determination. Darkness brings stillnes, stillness, heaviness. And when I walk I feel the fear pressing down until it's welling up in my eyes. Fear of men, love, the future, myself. I feel the truth slipping away and the lies pulling at my skin until I'm sure I'll disappear all together.

But that's when I call my mom, carrying her voice next to my ear as I walk. For the past 4 years, whether I am 8 hours away or in the same room, it is this voice I have clung to. My mother is my voice of reason when I've lost my own. She is my ears, recogonizing the lies in my mouth, when they sound like truth. She pours love into my heart when it's drying up.

My mother is my anchor. As I walk between the street lamps with the Enemy trying to pull me away in a storm of Doubt, I feel secured. She is strong enough for the both of us.