The Myth of Pain

There’s a myth surrounding pain. Take mothers for example. They always claim that the pain of childbirth is quickly forgotten because it’s overturned by the joy of their baby. This is the myth, that pain is quickly forgotten. I remember the pain when I bumped my head last week or was stung by a bee. For me pain is what has made me the way I am. It is what has grown me; my Heart. Pain is so necessary for all of my growth. I chose not to forget, but remember.

He wrote me today. I had reached out again, and he reached back. I was ready to reach out again. This happens every so often now. I think it used to happen more. My Heart says to me "chin up, go love" and I listen to my Heart because it's strong and I've been doing it since I was little. At 7, my Heart was young and innocent and I forgave him for coming home late, not being at my ballet recital, or making Her cry. I saw him as the man who put together my first swing set in the backyard. At 10 he was still the man in my eye that would stand outside in the cold April weather of Illinois, on Easter. For 2 hours we flew my kite. I remember his hands clutching my little hand so closely. Again, my Heart had managed to fly away the hurt from not knowing who he was.

So now my Heart is braver, stronger, and more patient than the both of us. We both underestimate its strength. Even if he does break my Heart again, it doesn’t care, because now it soars. It believes again and again.