7 Days Post-Op
The stitches and medical glue used to seal incisions. The swelling. The black and blue bruising surrounding my entire abdomen. It was too much for her. She said it all looked so painful.
Short Stories by Kelli J. Gavin
The Painting of Margaret
On precious occasions, Margaret will share with me stories of her childhood, her teen years and stories from as recent as 40 years ago. She is a walking, talking history lesson. All of her stories have a purpose.
Walk Away-Coffee Shop Blues
I didn’t feel the need to justify my beliefs but I did feel the need to let him how inappropriate his verbal attack was. I reminded him Lily was watching. He didn’t care. He kept insulting me.
Cocaine in the Soda
I don’t want to miss out anymore. I don’t want to have a perfect house and life that looks like I have my act together when I am not able to enjoy life as it passes me by.
Never Underestimate
Never underestimate the power of good morning texts, apologies, and random compliments. Because they will always matter and mean more than you can imagine.
Trying To Heal
It is all about working through those hurts and finding a way to process them while letting them hurt a bit less every day. There is no time table.
Fully Me
I realized this morning as I pulled in to the parking lot, that I was filled with angst. I wasn’t nervous but realized I was apprehensive. I have spent my life encouraging, speaking truth to and guiding women, so what were all these unsettling feelings I was dealing with?
Do You Feel Me? (September Feels)
Holding on to every last moment of summer, I feel that when I put on those jeans and those stupid thick winter yoga pants, I am almost defeated.
Hands
My mother had the softest hands of anyone I have ever known. When I was small, she would stroke the bridge of my nose to help settle me in for the night. And often would do the same to assist in quieting my tears.
When A Woman’s Heart Hurts
Against my will, the salty tears assaulted my cheeks as quickly as I could wipe them away. I just needed a good cry. I needed to dispel all this hurt and just move on. I wasn’t sure I could do this. Another gulp of air and a sob caught in my throat.
You Are Not The Judge Of Me
When a judgmental comment makes its way to my lips and can tell the condition of my heart is failing, I reel it back in. I reel it in. All of it. Stop myself in my tracks. Those words I am ready to share do not encourage.
August and I
Now, 5 1/2 years later, I find August approaching quickly. August 4th is a day that I will always pause and honor my mom. I will always remember her, share her life and the stories I remember with my children and anyone that will listen.