Tears, hot tears, fell fast.
She could feel a wail rise up inside of her.
Raised to be 'prim and proper', wailing wasn't an option.
What would the neighbours say?
Think about the children she was told
When the thunderstorm reverberated loudly, she could scream.
But that thunderstorm
season ended.
So sometimes in the shower wails of unshed tears rose
They came over the kitchen sink.
When folding the laundry
The stark reminders of the journey past were real. The scars, smells, memories
They were real
Real pain
Hers
No matter what anyone said
It was her pain
She now understood God wept watching her going through it all.
But yesterday the sun literally kissed her face and she stopped, closed her eyes to enjoy the feeling; the deep knowledge something had shifted. She was loved. She was safe.
She marvelled how a torn garment she was folding could create such strong emotion and quickly understood also how well kept she was through the trials. She knew there were things that she'd be shielded from her knowledge or experience.
A torn garment quickly turned her tears into deep rejoicing. Tamars spirit mourned but I choose to believe she laughed again.
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