For Sure

For over a week, I’ve been at a loss for words.   Writing has always been therapeutic for me, yet I’ve been struggling with where to begin. 

When suddenly and without warning, Oprah came to mind.  Am I nuts?  Yes, but that’s beside the point. I imagined being a guest on the Oprah Show.  What for?  Who knows, but at the end of my interview, she would ask (as she does all her guests),

“What do you know for sure?”  That question got me thinking.

This morning as I ran (okay, walk/jogged) through the Winterset cemetery pondering that very question, the answers arrived all too easily…

I know for sure, life doesn’t stay the same.  It’s constantly changing and the ability to roll with those changes is what living is.  I know I have family, both immediate and extended, who would drop everything in a heartbeat to help, guide and support me.

What do I know for sure?”

I know the majority of people are good.  I know money is important, yet not everything.  I know I love my kids in a way words can’t describe and I know marrying Mike was the best decision I’ve ever made.  He’s the perfect combination of strength and tenderness and I can't imagine being on this ride without him next to me. 

What do I know for sure?

I know things happen for a reason. I know love is what makes this world worth being a part of.  I know a bottle of wine and good cheese can make a dull day brighter.  I know laughter can be more powerful than prescriptions and kindness can bring peace.  I know everyone who follows my blog can probably determine where I am in my menstrual cycle by the tone of my writing.

What do I know for sure?

I know I no longer have a job.  As of right now, I’m a stay-at-home mom; although my kids are spending the week in Long Grove with my parents.  I know when I struggle for words, I look through my camera lens for answers. When those answers don’t appear, I turn on my oven, thaw out some meat and sprinkle in some onion soup mix.  When it’s too hot to turn on the oven, I run.

While running through the cemetery this morning, I discovered one central theme.  Of all the headstones, not a single one listed the persons’ place of employment, what their insurance plan looked like, how much money they made or how fast they could type.  If there was anything listed besides a name and 2 dates, it was, ‘wife of…’; husband to...’; ‘parents of…’ .  That’s when I figured it out.

At the end of the day, all the little things I worry about don’t really matter.  At the end of the day, I’m not Heidi Boyd, the Home Economist, or Heidi Boyd, the Office Assistant, or Heidi Boyd, the Teacher.  At the end of the day, I’m Heidi Boyd, the wife of Mike Boyd and mom of Ross, Maisie and Molly.  They are, and always will be, my everything. 

That’s what I know for sure.