I just lost my big, beautiful portabella mushroom cap when the paper plate bent over my fingers (I know better than to grab it by the edges). Not only does this mean that I will not be eating lunch, but I also have to clean the olive oil and melted bleu cheese from behind the oven. It is a very old gas oven, and I am too apprehensive to move it. So, I will be bending my not so lithe body into a very awkward position in a most likely failing attempt to accomplish my task.

This is how I feel when I am in my mother's presence. She knows me well, but she doesn't know what lies under the incredibly thick stone mask that I put on before I walk through her door. I can't let her see behind it either. She would only fret and needle me, and then worry herself into an early grave because she would believe that I am lost. The reality is, I am finally found. But, she won't see that.

This is not why I started this post, but it explains why I have only tasted freedom as opposed to living it.

No, I began on a positive note. Another metaphor: Jigsaw puzzles. I collect them. They represent my life as they do for so many others. Some pieces were taken from me as a child. Most were cast away during my failed marriage. I left it ten years ago and have been slowly gathering the pieces since. I found my strength and courage first. Then my confidence resurfaced. My independence was behind it. I shed what I thought was a true friend and found the actual one sometime later. She helped me find my faith (no, not in Jesus; rather, in the God and Godess). My path came into focus from there, and at every curve another piece is revealed. My mentor was there, and so were the tools I've needed.

I found a new piece last week. It's one from my childhood. It was shoved out of my reach at the time by people who said it was not important. Just as I stretched to take hold of it, my ex made it the first thing he stole. He later sold it for a sixth of its material worth for some cheap pleasure. I have it back now. It was expensive - twice as much as when I originally had it, and I will be paying for it for some time. But, it is a small price to pay for the hole it fills. My daughter is relieved that I have it. My son is like those who pushed it away. And, I will never let go of it again.