Broken Pieces

We started reading Winnie the Pooh last night, the original stories. This may seem unimportant, but for our family this was a big deal.

Our Winnie the Pooh tradition started when I was pregnant with my first baby. My husband would read to my tummy. I have wonderful memories of laying in bed together and laughing until we cried over those stories. If you haven't read them, they have some dry humor that catches you by surprise. They are wonderful.

Then when my two oldest children were little, my husband read the stories to them at bedtime.

This has been part of our family heritage. So, last night I started reading them. I had a lump in my throat the entire time. I remember the stories so well, but have never heard my own voice reading them. It made me sad.

I can't change what has happened. All I can do is move forward and do my best to parent alone. So, I keep picking up the pieces of our broken family and trying to redeem some of the old traditions that seemed so dependent on my ex-husband. We are healing and moving forward the best that we can.