All Pony, All The Time

Yesterday was one of those days. It was one of those days when the forces of depression and despair make a strong assault against the forces of hope and happiness in the never ending civil war for control of Townser’s mind. Their little battering rams bashing against my frontal lobe. Yesterday my daughter turned four. This is the daughter who I have probably spent less than eight months time with under the same roof. This is the daughter, with her Shirley Temple curls, her Mother’s eyes, and impish grin from God knows where, who owns my heart. This is the daughter with health issues that stop her from doing the things that normal girls her age would do, but that does not seem to mind as she is far from a normal girl. As I sit 600 miles away and ache, I try not to think about what brought me to this point. I try not to think about all the bad decisions, mistakes, and lies. I try to be happy. Frankly, I am not. I wish I could make things right, and I wish that I could turn back the clock, but more than anything I hope that my kids can understand how much I care about them.

This was the pony birthday; the birthday where all she wanted was a pony, a live one and a stuffed one. As she said, “I want one for the backyard and one for inside the house” which makes perfect sense in a four year old mind. Hell, it makes perfect sense in my mind. Unfortunately, she had to settle for a stuffed unicorn that she could ride or at least pretend to ride. Fortunately, she did not seem to mind. As I sat last night watching the grainy images through my web cam of her wearing her pink cowgirl boots, straw hat and a smile as big as Texas while riding her unicorn, I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream, but instead I smiled and I laughed because that was the right thing to do. I thought a good night’s sleep would cure me, of course I have not had a good night’s sleep in years, so I woke up today and hurt even more. I just want it to stop.

Happy Birthday Soph.