Yellow into Red


Not sure exactly why but I am feeling a little blah today. Had my work related birthday lunch and afterward I just felt this way. I need a new life. I need a plan. I need to learn to dream again and go after those dreams. I need to get my son out of my parents’ house because my mom is killing his spirit and she doesn’t even see it. I don’t think she is doing it intentionally, she is just not the person that raised me. Maybe she is, I just didn’t know back then. That would explain the part about why I don’t go after my dreams. You know how sometimes things come really easy for a person, or they just happen to get everything they want. Or maybe it is just that their life is set, works. They don’t really need more. My parents have been married for 38 years (this month). My mom was 18 when they got married. She has never had to work. We grew up making it. Not expecting anything. It was good though. She only worked after my brother and I were older. She thinks I should be married. I don’t think that I was ever really pushed to have dreams that I wanted fulfilled. It is really hard for me to stretch for the dreams I have. I do know that I am too old to be working too hard in a job that doesn’t even afford me to live outside of my parents’ house. The economy is terrible and I am stumped as to what to do. But I pulled into the driveway, on the verge of crying, still not sure why, and I noticed this set of leaves in the neighbor’s bush. I went upstairs, grabbed my camera and took some pictures. I love how in that one stem there is yellow, green, brown and red. 

image image Photobucket


Published by Lili

Single mom trying to find fun and happiness thru the lens.

3 thoughts on “Yellow into Red

  1. Sorry to hear about your struggles. I’ll be praying for you.
    Photography is such a nice relief from everything that is worrying you, sometimes. I love that it can distract you from everything else and make you realize that there is still beauty in the world.
    Thanks for linking up to Observing beauty.


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