Postcards From the Edge

When I had my personals ad active I "advertised" that I was baggage free. And I believe that I am...I don't have ex-spousal units to fight with, no custody wars, no teenager's harmones to manage, no financial trauma. I have a good job, home and attitude.

What hit me this morning is while I don't have baggage to bring to a relationship I do have postcards and a hefty mental scrapbook. I process everthing against is the highs and lows contained in that book.

The book has sugar and spice, leather and lace, pressed flowers and bandaids. There are pigeons in Amsterdam, there are trips some promised and not made, some so precious the mere thought of them invokes smells and sounds in my head. There are diamonds and dreams and births and deaths. There is trust, hope, love, lies, abuse and black holes.

I counted this morning how many times people have up and disappeared from my life. Poof, they're gone. My friends will tell you it wasn't because I wasn't a full guest at the party. "I love you" one day and nothing but emptiness the next. Postcards from the edge those are.

Baggage free - yes, well traveled - yes, emotionally crippled - no. I am trying to find the travel brochure for the Isle of Breathe though.