Rolling In The Deep

I got a little sad the other day.

Not like crying my eyes out, laying in my kitchen floor, with a dish towel covering my head sad….just sad.

It was brought to my attention, through the actions of another person, that people look at my marriage as a failure.

There are people who look in my home, through the  looking glass (my blog) I provided the whole world, and like to look around at my family.

I sometimes hear them clear their throat, like something has left a bad taste in their mouth. It is sometimes a giggle, or even all out belly laughter. They enjoy the view for awhile, as we sit shadowed in their judgment.

It used to hurt.

It once upon a time, made it hard for me to go out in public.

I got over it.

It wasn’t the other person’s judgment of my family which made me sad. Trust me it wasn’t, she’s crazier than bat shit crazy, and we all know that’s fucking crazy.

It was because I don’t get my fairy tale.

“But Kelly, you hate fairy tales…”

I do.

I hate those old fashioned, waiting on a man to save them damsels in distress, stories.

I hate them more because ‘the whore’ was thinking about getting Tinker Bell on her back.

I just wanted my own fairy tale.

The one I used to tell my kids.

“I met him at a snowgarrita party, and he was a jerk. Cute but a jerk. We ended up talking at another party, and this time he was nice. We ended up seeing each other more and more, until one night he kissed me. Right then and there, I knew I felt something…something different. Six months later, he proposed and we have been together ever since…”

I now feel fake every time it’s brought up.

I feel like every happy time was bullshit.

I feel like it was all just one giant 23 year lie.

I have friends that started dating in junior high, they now have two beautiful daughters, and a marriage I am jealous of.

They have the fairy tale.

The happily ever after.

They don’t judge us, and would never think about comparing their marriage to ours. They are supportive and happy for us, which in some ways just sucks.

I used to have a marriage that made people jealous.

I think that’s one thing which pisses me off…well besides the whole cheating with the town whore debacle.

The fact that for just a second, we almost had it all.

The family.

The marriage.

The dogs and a cat.

The farmhouse on a hill…

We almost had it all.

And now here we sit, being judged by a crazy person, and found wanting.

So I was sad.

Then a new friend told me something.

” My husband and I were talking about you guys, and how you all handled everything. You handled it fantastic. You never gave up or stopped being a mom.”

Yes, we are still the subject of small town talk…three years later.

But, there are people who admire the way we got through our families darkest time.

It made me feel?? Proud?

For the first time, I am proud. Not of my kids, those guys are rock stars. I am proud of my husband and me.

What should have ripped us apart, made us closer.

What was supposed to be the end, became a new beginning.

What others let define them, we decided to define instead.

My marriage isn’t a failure. My marriage isn’t a comedy for people to laugh at. It’s not a bloody mess, for others to point and stare at, snapping pictures as they drive by.

I have nothing to be ashamed of.

I have a new age fairy tale.

In this messed up world, I have a marriage I am proud of. One I have spent 23 years, building. Not all of the blocks are full of happy rainbows and sunshine, but I’m pretty sure that shit would fall over in the first bad storm.

Or the first time the big, bad wolf tried to blow my house down.

And you have nothing to be ashamed of either, my sweet friends. There is no shame in struggles, in imperfection. Most families deal with bad times, and we are all taught to smile and pretend our lives are perfect.

If we all believe Facebook? Everyone in America is blissfully happy. No one is in debt, struggles with addictions, marital woes, or depression. Perfection is just ordinary here, and imperfection is shameful.

I wish more people would be honest. Would show our kids that having “it all”, means struggles along the way. That the road to happiness is full of pot holes and speed traps. Where really bad shit happens daily.


You can still find your happy ending.

And I believe those of us who struggle and fight for it? Are the ones who they should write new “Fairy tales” about. Or better still?

Let’s all write our own endings.

Ones without glass slippers, or singing mice, where real life happens.

And they lived imperfectly, in a messy house, which was often filled with laughter,

Happily ever after….

“Baby I have no story to be told
But I’ve heard one of you and I’m gonna make your head burn,
Think of me in the depths of your despair
Make a home down there as mine sure won’t be shared

The scars of your love, remind you of us.
They keep me thinking that we almost had it all
The scars of your love, they leave me breathless
I can’t help feeling
We could have had it all
Rolling in the deep
You had my heart inside your hand
And you played it
To the beat

We could have had it all
Rolling in the deep
You had my heart inside your hand
But you played it
With a beating

Throw your soul through every open door
Count your blessings to find what you look for
Turn my sorrow into treasured gold
You pay me back in kind and reap just what you sow

We could have had it all
We could have had it all
We could have had it all
Rolling in the deep
You had my heart inside your hand
And you played it to the beat”



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Happy Blog Anniversary to Me…

Two years ago I finally started writing a blog…

wordy at first.

made me cry every time.

it ran on and on sometimes.

and the over use of this……

I was going to say goodbye at the end of year one. I figured a different blog, or maybe a book, instead God put me on a different path.

He sent me to school, where my healing has continued.

I did have a brief flirtation with a reality show and the lifetime network…it wasn’t meant to be. Too much Jerry Springer, not enough reality? Anyway, me and Lifetime, I think I lived that already.

My path instead,  I believe was meant to bring me where I am.

I have new kick ass friends.

A job that I love.

And a reason to get out of bed, even on my really bad days.

What words of wisdom do I have?

Words, I wish I had found when I was desperately googling, trying to find anything about “recovering from an affair” or “saving my marriage after affair”.

I’d say these things…

I’m sorry.

Sorry that you are here.

Sorry for what you are going through.

If it is the first hours, days, weeks, after discovery? Do me a favor, and eat, sleep, and drink lots of water. You are going to need to be at your fighting weight to get through this. And you are going to need all your energy to survive.

If you are six months in? It sucks, because everyone expects you to be healed and moving on…you aren’t even close.

Don’t make any rash decisions…moving away, giving up, changing yourself? Wait awhile, you might find everything is as it should be or at least where it should be.

Don’t think you are crazy. You are, like totally fucked up and crazy, I ain’t going to lie, but you aren’t. You are a betrayed spouse, that’s a new kind of crazy. A curable crazy, and it is supposed to change you.

Figure your shit out, and then make a plan.

Then realize that you can’t make any plans until after year one. Because year one is just about surviving. So all you are doing is figuring out how to breathe, eat, sleep, and not kill your spouse. Plan is? Survive.

If your marriage survives until after year one, decide to heal it. Be committed to healing it. Half assing it? Will only prolong the process, so give it everything you have left. You might find that you are still in love with him/her, and that your marriage is going to  be okay.

Year one? it sucks. Year two? it sucks a little less.

Year two is where you might find your happy again. I think it starts with mercy, and forgiveness.

I like forgiveness.

Forgive him. Forgive yourself.

The whore…she’s optional, I’m not there yet.

I think forgiveness is about letting go of the hate, the anger and the bitterness.

Let it go.

You might think it’s hurting them, but it’s not, at least not like it’s hurting you. It’s weighing you down and keeping you prisoner.

So let it go.

Will you still get angry? Yes! And you will feel the hate and bitterness come boiling up. But decide they don’t get to control you, and when you can?

Let it go.

Year two is about finding you again.

Finding out who you are now, because you are not the same person. You will never be the person you were before.

Make your peace with it.

Find yourself…I know, how new age of you, Kelly.

But I mean it, find the new you.

I don’t laugh as much.

I live with triggers.

I have a sadness now which makes me cry…daily at first,  then weekly, now monthly.

I am fierce now if you attack my husband. Don’t think you can judge him, or make snide remarks because of his choices. I will rip your fucking face off, literally no more face. We are now a we and in it together.

I have anxiety, and meltdowns.

I appreciate the small things. When you can’t see anything other than your own pain for a year? When you live in a bubble of darkness? When you finally can see clear, you see everything. Every single little thing. I don’t take them for granted anymore.

I have changed, for better for worse, it is the new me.

Year two is about healing.

No you aren’t totally cured, fine, never have bad days again.

But you are better, and better is okay compared to where you have been. I will take better any day of the week, compared to laying in the bottom of my shower in the fetal position bawling.

Better is all about perspective, and compared to where I was? I am doing pretty fucking amazing.

Year two is better than year one.

I am into year three now. Just a couple of weeks in, and I know it’s not going to be perfect. I’m okay with that…in fact more than okay. I am at peace with it.

My life was never perfect.

It’s not going to be a ‘happily ever after’ they rode off into the sunset ending for me.

I’m not a Disney princess.

I’m kind of glad, I can’t stand those bitches.

All singing…

And being saved by a man and shit.

I’ll find my own shoe, thank you.

And I hope in your year three? You find peace and your own version of happy.

“Hello, it’s me
I was wondering if after all these years you’d like to meet
To go over everything
They say that time’s supposed to heal ya
But I ain’t done much healing

Hello, can you hear me?
I’m in California dreaming about who we used to be
When we were younger and free
I’ve forgotten how it felt before the world fell at our feet

There’s such a difference between us
And a million miles

Hello from the other side
I must’ve called a thousand times
To tell you I’m sorry
For everything that I’ve done
But when I call you never
Seem to be home

Hello from the outside
At least I can say that I’ve tried
To tell you I’m sorry
For breaking your heart
But it don’t matter, it clearly
Doesn’t tear you apart anymore

Hello, how are you?
It’s so typical of me to talk about myself, I’m sorry
I hope that you’re well
Did you ever make it out of that town
Where nothing ever happened?

It’s no secret
That the both of us
Are running out of time

So hello from the other side (other side)
I must’ve called a thousand times (thousand times)
To tell you I’m sorry
For everything that I’ve done
But when I call you never
Seem to be home

Hello from the outside (outside)
At least I can say that I’ve tried (I’ve tried)
To tell you I’m sorry
For breaking your heart
But it don’t matter, it clearly
Doesn’t tear you apart anymore

Ooooohh, anymore
Ooooohh, anymore
Ooooohh, anymore

Hello from the other side (other side)
I must’ve called a thousand times (thousand times)
To tell you I’m sorry
For everything that I’ve done
But when I call you never
Seem to be home

Hello from the outside (outside)
At least I can say that I’ve tried (I’ve tried)
To tell you I’m sorry
For breaking your heart
But it don’t matter, it clearly
Doesn’t tear you apart anymore”


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Today it has been three years since my life imploded? Exploded? Got blown to hell?

I am still here.

and if that was all I wrote, I feel like it would be enough.

Enough for all my readers who are betrayed spouses themselves.

Just those four words ‘I AM STILL HERE…’

Start up the band, pop the champagne, and can I get a “Whoop, Whoop?!”

I am still here, my friends.

I thought of a dozen different posts, some sad, some a tad angry, and a lot just rambling, because figuring out what I feel today is hard.

Today is hard.

But I think what I have figured out about all this is….drum roll please?

It’s not about what was, it was really awful. Some days I didn’t want to survive it, awful.

Today isn’t about the awful that was.

It is about the person, the people who came out of it. The people who stand here three years later, together, forming a family.

My family.

I am…proud?

Do I wish we had never been tested? Yes, a definite YES.

But we were.

and we passed.

Here we still stand, together.

We have been gossiped about, taken to court, forced to face our demons, and been a favorite target of pathetic people on social media.

and yet here we stand.

I am proud of my family.

of my kids.

Three years later, they are not only surviving but thriving.

My marriage?

Well…. we probably talk more than normal couples, and another thing we have learned?

How to listen. How to hear what the other is saying, when we ourselves can’t find the words. Maybe because we almost lost it all.

Which leads me to share a story I read on Facebook today. I normally don’t stop to read them but I did because, well I was meant to….

A young woman went to her grandmother and told her about her life and how things were so hard for her – her husband had cheated on her and she was devastated. She did not know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up. She was tired of fighting and struggling. It seemed as soon as one problem was solved, a new one arose.

Her grandmother took her to the kitchen. She filled three pots with water and placed each on a high fire. Soon the pots came to boil. In the first she placed carrots, in the second she placed eggs, and in the last she placed ground coffee beans. She let them sit and boil; without saying a word.

In about twenty minutes she turned off the burners. She fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl. Then she ladled the coffee out and placed it in a bowl.

Turning to her granddaughter, she asked, ‘Tell me what you see.’

‘Carrots, eggs, and coffee,’ she replied.

Her grandmother brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots. She did and noted that they were soft. The grandmother then asked the granddaughter to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard boiled egg.

Finally, the grandmother asked the granddaughter to sip the coffee. The granddaughter smiled as she tasted its rich aroma. The granddaughter then asked, ‘What does it mean, grandmother?’

Her grandmother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity: boiling water. Each reacted differently. The carrot went in strong, hard, and unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak. The egg had been fragile. Its thin outer shell had protected its liquid interior, but after sitting through the boiling water, its inside became hardened. The ground coffee beans were unique, however. After they were in the boiling water, they had changed the water.

“Which are you?” she asked her granddaughter. “When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond? Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?

Think of this: Which am I? Am I the carrot that seems strong, but with pain and adversity? Do I wilt and become soft and lose my strength?

Am I the egg that starts with a malleable heart, but changes with the heat? Did I have a fluid spirit, but after a death, a breakup, a financial hardship or some other trial, have I become hardened and stiff? Does my shell look the same, but on the inside am I bitter and tough with a stiff spirit and hardened heart?

Or am I like the coffee bean? The bean actually changes the hot water, the very circumstance that brings the pain.. When the water gets hot, it releases the fragrance and flavor. If you are like the bean, when things are at their worst, you get better and change the situation around you. When the hour is the darkest and trials are their greatest, do you elevate yourself to another level?

How do you handle adversity? Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?

I am proud to say my family made coffee…


Slightly dark.

Sometimes sweet.



We are still here.

‘Loving can hurt
Loving can hurt sometimes
But it’s the only thing that I know
When it gets hard
You know it can get hard sometimes
It is the only thing that makes us feel alive

We keep this love in a photograph
We make these memories for ourselves
Where our eyes are never closing
Hearts are never broken
And time’s forever frozen, still

So you can keep me
Inside the pocket of your ripped jeans
Holding me close until our eyes meet
You won’t ever be alone
Wait for me to come home

Loving can heal
Loving can mend your soul
And it’s the only thing that I know (know)
I swear it will get easier
Remember that with every piece of ya
And it’s the only thing we take with us when we die

We keep this love in this photograph
We make these memories for ourselves
Where our eyes are never closing
Our hearts were never broken
And time’s forever frozen, still

So you can keep me
inside the pocket of your ripped jeans
Holding me close until our eyes meet
You won’t ever be alone
And if you hurt me
That’s okay baby, there ‘ll be worse things
Inside these pages you just hold me
I won’t ever let you go

Wait for me to come home (x4)

Oh, you can keep me
Inside the necklace you got when you were sixteen
Next to your heartbeat where I should be
Keep it deep within your soul

And if you hurt me
Oh, that’s okay baby, only words bleed
Inside these pages you just hold me
And I won’t ever let you go

When I’m away,
I will remember how you kissed me
Under the lamppost back on sixth street
Hearing you whisper through the phone
Wait for me to come home”

-Ed Sheeran-

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Bad Blood

Had a sad epiphany yesterday…

I stayed in my marriage.

I choose to stay in my marriage.

Let’s be honest, I fought with everything I had to save my marriage…

My family.

My husband.

And kids.

Now here I sit, almost three years later from the day my life got blown to Hell, and I still remember it all.

My life before…

My life during…

and the sadness after.

It is all still here. Forever a part of me. It is as much a part of me as my birthmark on my left arm, my scar from the cactus on my head, and the stretchmark’s from my children. It is always going to be with me. Always until the day I die…

How’s that for a thought on this beautiful fall weekend?

I have survived almost three years, and yet it will always be here in my heart. A scar which will still fester with a splinter from the past, and it still hurts. It will never ever completely go away.

The knowledge of the scar makes me sad.

The fact of it never going away makes me a little angry.

The passing of almost three years makes me want to go a tad bit crazy.

All of which I still fight against every, single stinking day.


I still want to sometimes scream at how unfair it is. The affair, the taking of the life I knew, the chaos and hurt that was brought to me, and the fact of no matter how much time passes or how much I try to move forward? It will always be with me.

It is now a part of me.

To stay means to never forget.

To stay is to be forever be haunted by it.

To stay is hard.

…. sometimes I get really tired of doing hard.

And yet here I keep walking down the path that will never be easy.

Which makes me wonder about my sanity? And I know wondering if I’m crazy let’s me know I’m still sane, because only crazy people never wonder if they are crazy…right?

My epiphany?

On my death-bed I will remember the affair, and my heartbreak.

I just hope it is not my last thought…

“(Hey!) Did you think we’d be fine?
Still got scars on my back from your knife
So don’t think it’s in the past
These kind of wounds they last and they last
Now did you think it all through?
All these things will catch up to you
And time can heal but this won’t
So if you come in my way, just don’t
Oh, it’s so sad to think about the good times
You and I

‘Cause baby now we got bad blood
You know it used to be mad love
So take a look at what you’ve done
‘Cause baby now we got bad blood

(Hey!) Now we got problems
And I don’t think we can solve them
You made a really deep cut
And baby now we got bad blood

(Hey!) Band-aids don’t fix bullet holes
You say sorry just for show
You live like that, you live with ghosts (Ghosts)
Band-aids don’t fix bullet holes (Hey!)
You say sorry just for show (Hey!)
You live like that, you live with ghosts (Hey!)
Hm, if you love like that blood runs bad

-Taylor Swift-

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Stepping on my soap box for a minute…

Just for a minute, I swear. It’s Homecoming week, and I have cinnamon rolls to bake, posters to make, and  Lou’s annual “Homecoming T-shirt who list all her ‘bubba’s who play” to decorate. So this will be short and sweet…


Not because I didn’t get my brush with fame…I won’t do a Springer like show with Miss CanCan whore.

But because they think infidelity is cool.

They think it’s funny.

They portray it as sexy.

Hollywood makes me want to vomit.

Show’s like ‘Scandal’ and ‘Mistresses’? Where they want you to root for the other woman, where they make the wife either crazy or an unattractive nag. ‘The Other Woman’ was so unrealistic, like I was going to team up with the whore and we were going to go on a wacky funny adventure. Let’s also love the fact that Cameron Diaz played the mistress…bitch please. She should have played the wife, more realistic.

I hate that my ‘Big Bang Theory’ had Lenard cheat, because it’s a comedy and cheating is not funny. It is sad, it hurts, and doesn’t deserve a laugh track.

They had my beloved Jax cheat on ‘Sons of Anarchy’. He not only broke Tara’s heart but mine. I did love scene where Tara beat the other woman’s ass, I’ll admit I rewound and watched it again cheering. Was it realistic? No, most of us betrayed spouses have never laid a finger on those ‘women’, but show me one who didn’t dream about it and I would wonder about their sanity.

What would I say to Hollywood if they cared what I had to say?

“Quit making light of infidelity. Quit telling people it doesn’t hurt anyone. Quit teaching our daughters that it’s cool to be the ‘other woman’. Quit using cheating to get an ‘easy’ laugh. Show it for what it is more…How it shatters families. Destroys good women and men. That it is fucking awful. Please and thank you.”

Just my rant on my soap box this week, my sweet friends.

I’m off to glitter and bedazzle, and do a little baking.

I’m waitin’ on the sun to set ’cause yesterday ain’t over yet
I started smoking cigarettes there’s nothing else to do I guess
Dusty roads ain’t made for walking, spinning tires ain’t made for stoppin’
I’m giving up on love ’cause love’s given up on me

I gave it everything I had and everything I got was bad
Life ain’t hard but it’s too long to live it like some country song
Trade the truth in for a lie, cheating really ain’t a crime
I’m giving up on love ’cause love’s given up on me

Forget your high society, I’m soakin’ it in kerosene
Light ’em up and watch them burn, teach them what they need to learn, ha!
Dirty hands ain’t made for shakin’, ain’t a rule that ain’t worth breakin’
Well I’m giving up on love ’cause love’s given up on me

Now I don’t hate the one who left
You can’t hate someone who’s dead
He’s out there holding on to someone, I’m holding up my smoking gun
I’ll find somewhere to lay my blame the day she changes her last name
Well I’m giving up on love ’cause love’s given up on me
Well I’m giving up on love, hey, love’s given up on me’

Miranda Lambert-

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Fight Song

So emotions are a little high this week…

Anniversary coming up remember, and it is going to hurt, no matter what I do.

It is making the triggers that hit do more damage than usual. It amplifies them, makes the voices become unmuzzled, and  makes me want to scream.

I have worked so hard to not be mean. I have done so much inner dialogue with my demons to come out of this sane. I have spent almost three years of Hell, to come out of this a non angry, not jaded, still whole person. I will not back slide, just because of a stupid date.

Okay, it’s a little more than a date, it was a promise, a legal and binding contract, a life choice, a very big fucking deal…but now it’s just a stupid day of the year.

Which I know from previous years, will pass. It will not kill me, repeat after me, IT WILL NOT KILL ME…

I have walked through the valley of the whore, and came out with some bruises and nasty whore on my shoes, but still whole.

I have sat the court of ‘bat shit crazy’ and ‘victim whore’ and not raised a finger in violence or voice in anger, and came out still sane.

I have made it through the first days and the on slots of lies and twisted tales, and still have my sanity.

I will walk through this week with my head held high, my thoughts non-murderous, and sanity intact.

I have been here before, and I will not stumble on my journey through this shitty week.

I will remember to breathe, to pause before speaking, to count my blessings, and I will be a nice person.

No crazy.

No sad.

No anger.

I will be just Kelly, and carry on with this life I fought hard to build from the trashed life I once had.

Say a little prayer for me my sweet friends…

“Like a small boat on the ocean
Sending big waves into motion
Like how a single word
Can make a heart open
I might only have one match
But I can make an explosion

And all those things I didn’t say
Wrecking balls inside my brain
I will scream them loud tonight
Can you hear my voice?

This time this is my fight song
Take back my life song
Prove I’m alright song
My powers turned on
Starting right now I’ll be strong
I’ll play my fight song
And I don’t really care
If nobody else believes
Cause I’ve still got
A lot of fight left in me

Losing friends and I’m chasing sleep
Everybody’s worried about me
In too deep they say I’m in too deep
And it’s been two years
And I miss my home
But there’s a fire burning in my bones
And I still believe yeah I still believe

And all those things I didn’t say
Wrecking balls inside my brain
I will scream them loud tonight
Can you hear my voice?

This time this is my fight song
Take back my life song
Prove I’m alright song
My powers turned on
Starting right now I’ll be strong
I’ll play my fight song
And I don’t really care
If nobody else believes
Cause I’ve still got
A lot of fight left in me
A lot of fight left In me”

-Rachel Platten




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Boys Of Fall

Next week is my wedding anniversary…

I know “Oh ssshhhiiitttt!!!”

It will be my third one since D-Day.

Does it still suck?


I don’t know if this date, anniversary, memory, will ever stop sucking.

The positive thing about this year? I don’t have time for a breakdown.

I do not have time, period. No time for a visit from crazy Kelly, or a cry fest with sad Kelly, not even a minute to take a sledge-hammer to something shiny with mad Kelly. I just don’t have time.

I am working over nine-hour days. I am in the middle of calving season. My baby boy is playing football. Lou is…well Lou. I do not have the time to take the train to crazy town, I barely have time to get groceries.

I think it’s why God put me on this new path. I think it’s why he put these new people in my life. I know it’s why he put me in a room full of kids everyday, because as stressed and sad as I might get? A hug and a whisper of “I love you Mrs. Kelly” makes me realize life may suck but it’s not that bad.

And it’s really not that bad…

I am sanely insane, and I still talk to my animals.

I laugh daily now, yesterday to the point of crying. (It was sweet laughter my friends).

I still have my family…whole…around me.

I am so proud of my boys and the young men they have become. Sweet, Happy, Non-Jaded young men, who love with their whole hearts, still believe in happily ever after, and aren’t afraid of being sappy for their girlfriends…whom I adore.

I can appreciate a cool, almost fall morning, and see the sun, knowing it’s going to be a good day.

I am making apple and pumpkin everything this year, because I gave in and decided this year? I still love fall…

even though I know the triggers…

I  feel the pain…

I am healed enough to get past it.

I walked into my living room last night, taking a break from my apple butter canning, and saw my husband and youngest son sitting on the couch together. There they sat, side by side, heads together, laughing as they watched a play from his Friday night football game. A little later, my husband came in and asked me if I wanted to ride with him to check calves.

“Sure,” I said and grabbed my jacket.

My youngest son came walking in the kitchen, “Where you going?” He questioned us.

“Just checking cows with your dad.” I replied.

“I wanna go with him.” he told me putting on his shoes.

I watched them walk out of the door together with smiles on their faces, and I sat back down with peace in my heart.

The cracks still present in our family are shrinking, love is winning.

When I feel that chill, smell that fresh cut grass
I’m back in my helmet, cleats, and shoulder pads
Standing in the huddle, listening to the call
Fans going crazy for the boys of fall

They didn’t let just anybody in that club
Took every ounce of heart and sweat and blood
To get to wear those game-day jerseys down the hall
The kings of the school, man, we’re the boys of fall

Well it’s turn to face the stars and stripes
It’s fighting back them butterflies
It’s call it in the air, alright
Yes sir, we want the ball
And it’s knocking heads and talking trash
It’s slinging mud and dirt and grass
It’s I got your number, I got your back
When your back’s against the wall
You mess with one man, you got us all
The boys of fall

In little towns like mine, that’s all they’ve got
Newspaper clippings fill the coffee shops
The old men will always think they know it all
Young girls will dream about the boys of fall”

-Kenny Chesney

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