I write to get it out, even when it's good stuff, the really good stuff. Otherwise I'm waiting with a story to tell, ready to explode at the first person who asks me how I'm doing. "I'm Awesome! Great! Fan-flippin-tastic!" I become a bright-eyed brunette who ends sentences with exclamation points and exudes sunshine and glitter. And I really, really hate glitter—that shit gets everywhere.
Life is good. It's not easy, it's work, and it's good. It's shifting and moving, still splashing cold water on my face, but it's utterly and completely okay.
My family, my sisters, my Idahome is safe. It's where I'm spending the 4th of July under fireworks and an endless blue sky. I drive with the windows down, the radio on, and my hair—everywhere. I breathe in the sun, the green fields, the warm nights... I remember what it means to be loved, to take vacation, to celebrate. I finally remember what it's like to be happy, all the way down, and to not know all the answers but be okay.
I remember hugs are better than handshakes, laughter feeds the soul, and the fact that I sprained the top of my foot while walking is more hilarious than inconvenient.
I look in the mirror to slowly recognize who I'm becoming.
Today is good.
I realize that I'll always ask "What do I want to do with my life?" and that I should keep asking. I realize it's people first, then everything else. It's knowing I need adventure and kindness, a challenge and compassion. It's discovering that we never touch people so lightly as to not leave a trace. It's wanting to add more truth, more goodness, and the right amount of change.
It's remembering to write.
It's remembering to smile.
And it's with a smile, I wish you all a happy 4th of July.
Isn't that just so quaint and Idaho-like of me?
It's fine that Puerto Rico isn't a state.
Really, it's fine.
0 comments:
Post a Comment