Over the past few weeks, the pain has returned and I am extremely frustrated by this. I can't put my finger on what caused it to start, Maybe triathlon or weight training. Maybe boot camp classes. It doesn't really matter how it began, it is the exasperating return to the beginning of this process of healing that has me so bothered.
This morning, while listening to an old song on the way to preschool, it occurred to me that the healing process for matters of the heart is quite similar to that of physical injuries. For hurt feelings or broken hearts, passing time and a little TLC seem to solve the problem in most cases. Some hurt disappears like a paper cut while deeper wounds leave scar tissue behind.
Every once in awhile one of my senses makes contact with a mark from the past. You know how it goes. Certain scents, songs, or foods make time travel seem possible. While those experiences have lost much of their power, I don't take those memories for granted. To me, they are a reminder to stop and look around. To take stock of all that I love about now. To remember how hard things have been and how much time has changed things and how my world has evolved. I know that I've written about this before here, here, and here (and probably a lot more in my 4 1/2 years of blogging).
Today I am again feeling grateful for the in-my-face souvenirs of days-gone-by. Not the physical wrist-pain variety. Just the memories that keep me in tune with the abundance of happily-ever-after in my world.