For as long as I can remember, I have been a lover of words, although I’m not sure why.
They say that it’s sticks and stones that hurt.
Pretty sure words have left the worst scars.
Broken bones finally heal at some point.
Words?
Yeah, they settle into the quiet spots. They’re the scabs that you pick at until the mark becomes permanent.
They echo randomly through the chambers of my mind in the middle of the night.
I remember things that were spoken to me as a child.
I remember things that were spoken to me as an adult.
I remember words that were different than actions.
I wish I had really realized their impact much sooner in life.
Why did it take me 40 years to realize that I let the words from very broken people break me?
I guess maybe I had to experience enough life to open my eyes.
My Momma always said, “Baby, take the high road, even when it hurts.”
I have always tried to live my life like that.
Somehow, now, it has taken on a new meaning.
I’m honestly not sure if she knew that eventually it would, or if this is how she meant it.
I sure wish I could ask her.