What's That Scratching Noise?

I've noticed over my few years of blogging that readership tends to taper off over the summer months. That's a good thing for me, because I've been a tad busy with Mom's estate and just generally catching up on life here at home.

Spending time out at Mom's house has allowed me to see my childhood home in a new light. A lot of the furniture has left and all of the knick-knacks have departed to new homes. The house is down to bare bones in many ways, in anticipation of its next occupants (my sister and her husband). This sparse decor has revealed some reminders of my past.

When I was a young lad (yes, I was a child at one point in my life), we had a dog named Sam (short for Samantha, but that's another story). Sam was the canine version of the "wild woman of the world" (she showed up pregnant and gave birth to puppies soon after her arrival). While she liked being fed and loved, she longed for the outside world and would bolt around the neighborhood whenever possible; she always returned though.

During days of inclement weather, we would bring her inside. Because she shed her body weight in fur, Mom insisted she be kept down in the laundry room (which was actually a rather spacious room, housing the second bath). It was here in this room that I noticed scratch marks on and around the door. Sam wanted out.

Sam's been gone almost a quarter of a century, but the scratch marks remain. I wonder how many of us still have scratch marks inside of us. Dreams, ambitions, goals, true identity, potential accomplishments. Things we shut up because we didn't want them to get out and run around the neighborhood. Things we shut up because we thought we were protecting them from the harsh elements. Things we shut up because we were afraid somebody else would take them. Funny thing about dreams and goals... they don't like to be shut up any more than Sam did. So they started scratching. And they left marks deep in the basement of our souls.

Something to think about for a Friday: what left scratch marks in you? Why did you shut them up? Be honest with this next one: is it still too late to open the door and let those dreams out to run?

Carpe Factum!