tired

imageIt’s the word I don’t want to keep using about myself, refusing to let it define me.

It’s what my children so often are but so rarely admit to.

It’s that two-syllable word that I always am but don’t always want to be.

It’s what I don’t want Christmas and the month of December to be about being.

It’s one more area in which “motherhood is nothing if not sacrifice.”

It’s what I quickly become—of everything—when I am so very so.

It’s something I need to learn to be graciously. 

It’s a fact I’d rather wear hidden behind a perky smile than advertised in a loud sigh.

It’s a status which only sleep will cure and time will fix.

And I sit down and rest a moment, praying for the strength not to feel and the grace not to act so…tired.

(Five-Minute Friday Prompt: Tired—which took ten slow, tired minutes to write…)

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