F is for Fackrell

That's my maiden name.

It's a curious thing to be a woman and marry into someone else's family.  You leave your name behind, and take his.  It becomes part of who you are now. I don't begrudge that at all.  But, even if you don't have what your name was anymore, it never stops being a part of who you are.

It's the part of me that, no matter what weight I am at, determines that my cheeks will always make me look like a chipmunk gearing up for the nut-free apocalypse.

It's the part of me that thinks "I wonder where this goes" every time I stumble upon a new road.

It's the part of me that strikes up random conversations with people in the line at the grocery store and makes my children whisper urgently, "MOM.  You don't even KNOW HER."

It's the part of me that gets mad fast, but makes up fast too.

It's the part of me that tries to hide everything I really feel under a blanket of humor.

It's the part of me that says "I am clearly reading a book.  What you are interrupting me for better the heck be life-threatening."

It's the part of me that never finds a chocolatier that is quite Van Duyn.

It's the part of me that is so stubborn, I make a mule look compliant.

And, yeah, it's the part of me that says "Ok" when my mom decides to make all of our Christmases themed from now to the end of eternity.  New road, let's explore it.