Hi everyone,
Today after much vacillating, I am finally putting the stamp on the envelope containing my registry form with the State of Michigan, sealing the envelope and putting it in my mailbox.
Such a simple thing....such a simple form. Names, DOB's, address. That's it.
My husband who could write a book on how to deal with women, has stood silently by these past few days while my form sat on the desk, completely filled out, just waiting for me to stroll into the office and get up the courage to mail it. He's come into the office and put a hand on my shoulder. He's told me how proud he is of me. I hope he knows what a gift such friendship is.
And as someone else said in here, I am thinking back on all the times I've signed on the bottom line.
Tax forms, driver's license, even my original signature on the adoption form.....all just the business of business in the eyes of the State.
Back then I don't think I understood the ramifications of my signature; the power of it. That day I only remember searching the faces of attorney's and court officers looking for compassion. I only remember that clock, it's hands moving closer and closer to my despair.
As it sit here now, licking this envelope, my current name at the bottom of the form; I feel a strange mixture of emotions. Hope, fear, exposure. I ask myself, "When the mailman sees who this is addressed to - what branch of government, what will he think of me? Will he say too himself, 'Oh. One of
those women lives here?"
The old shame, the old silence.
In truth, I doubt he'll notice. It's just another piece of mail to him; part of his job. The stuff by which he keeps food on his table.
But for this 48 year old woman I am today that envelope holds a story of my life within it's manilla-hued paper.
The story of a 16 year old girl who once signed a piece of paper that would forever change who she was.
.....Going to the mailbox now and wondering how many women and men in this forum have gone to their mailboxes too with the same sense of sorrow, hope and trepidation.
The mailbox. Huh. Who would've thought a little metal container attached to the front porch of a house could come to symbolize so much?
Just thinking out loud. Thanks for listening.
Regards and respect to all within these e-walls. And a soft prayer for myself today.
Dear God - wherever the mail goes today, please go with it. Send it with your blessing. I need you now.
Janey