I can't help but think it's been a year since I spoke to Wayne. It was another beautiful spring day, exactly like this one- blinds couldn't shun the sun, and the sounds of cars whizzing by outside, and birds with full appetite, picking away at the ground, while mocking each other. Butterflies ignoring the drum and bass as it permeates the air for a brief moment, with exuberance as it was just catapulted from one lower being to something that can escape anything, taking flight at a whim. Oh to be a butterfly. Oh to be transformed.
But I have to admit that I am transformed from that girl that I was last year, sitting on this same porch, with the same green rug tickling my toes and with the same loud chirping and cars whizzing by. I was a mess that day that Wayne called to inform me that Colette wanted nothing to do with me. I was a hot, teary, mascara smudged mess. There was not enough love in the world to change the way I was feeling on that day- not enough compliments on how awesome of a person I truly was, not enough encouragement to remind me that life was full of circumstances, and that rejection was just one of the most unfortunate. Nothing would transform my frown, my furrowed brow, my heartache in the deepest of space. So I thought.
I have been allowed yet another chance to become the person I was created to be. Without my natural mother. I'm grateful for that.