True Confession

True confession: I had no idea where the song ‘Let it Go’ was from and why every child seemed to know it.

I’m glad Disney music wasn’t around when our kids were growing up. Like my parents did, we controlled the radio dial and music selection in our car. Then came Disney and all the movies seemed to have songs and every child knew them AND sang them.

Every. Child. 

I still don’t know what the song was about but that short refrain  appears in my mind like a mental billboard: LET IT GO

But I don’t let go. I hold on. Tightly.  

The fingers of my heart will grip tightly, fearful that letting go means cherished things will vanish. It’s okay to hold on to treasured times to memories you never want to fade. 

So I hold on to mama’s phone number in my contact list; a number I haven’t called in 10+ years…To memories, and hand-written recipes, and places…

To the funny stories about grandpa, the way granny always put grape jelly on her sausage biscuit. 

I hold on to youth that has long gone, and a few dreams I know won’t come true. 

I’m trying to uncurl my fingers, to loosen my grip around adult children who are creating their own traditions and memories, making their choices. I hear the echoes of let it go. 

Let go of pettiness that disguises itself as self-importance and arrogance.

Let go of old offenses, regrets, grudges, moments lost that I’ll never get back.

Letting go requires more strength than holding on. To loosen our grip on feelings isn’t easy. 

Empty hands are idle and fidgety. I need to hold a camera, a paint brush, a sewing needle. 

If I let go I must hold something to fill the emptiness. When I feel the warmth of my hand held in the strength of my husbands I find letting go a little easier. 

I also find hope.