Welcome back, my dear

This last Friday, our divorce was finally final.  It had been the longest and shortest 6 months of waiting in my life.  4 months of "is this really going to happen" and 2 more of "when will this ever finish happening?"  So along with everything else that was decided that day, I got my original last name back.

Riley

If I say it was the one time throughout the whole court process that I nearly teared up, it would be a lie.  But it was the most significant. 

Being me again.

Not attached to some man's name.  Some string of memories.  Dreams that were shattered.

I haven't been this girl in 7 years.

And that's where she was when I left her.  Just a girl. 

Tonight I realize how many things have happened since I left her. 

2 marriages (damn. Slow down there Elizabeth Taylor.).

One beautiful mess of a little boy. 

The loss of 2 precious grandparents.

And so, so much more.

I feel like I need to sit and tell her about all of the things that have happened since I was last with her.  I left her when she was so innocent.  So vulnerable.  When she believed that broken hearts weren't fixable and love wasn't so messy. 

I hope I can teach her to be wiser.  That she's really a pretty unique and beautiful-in-her-own-right sort of way.  That nights that are taken up with paint on her fingers and a wine glass in her hands are the makings of an exceptional evening. 

And in the moments when our chatter grows quiet, perhaps I will realize that she was there all along.  That she hasn't skipped a moment. Even through all of this mess,  whether the self-created or helpless-onlooker variation, I hope above all else, she can say she's proud of who I am this day. 

Welcome back, my dear.  Stay and sit a while.

Disclaimer:  I am not suffering from schizophrenia. Nor am I having an out of body experience.