When We Were Real

A tribute to the changing year, and to the strength of mothers everywhere

“There was a time when we were real.”

That’s the thought that came to me today, as I sorted through old documents and found a set of 4H pictures among the more banal bank statements and old instruction manuals.

The children are much younger, only four of them old enough have “official” 4H portraits done. Back then, then we were a real family.

I was not a frazzled, overworked object of pity when looked at by other people. I was something more than just another everyday tragedy trying to raise up a bunch of entitled, impoverished children in the wake of trauma.

I have to smile, because as of late I feel like a Velveteen Rabbit in reverse - I was real, and now I’m not. Now I’m on the other side of devastating pain and broken hearts, trying to figure out how we can get back to feeling like a “real family.”