thoughts...

It is Sunday. The weekend has passed all to quickly and tonight's twilight is slowly fading into just another Monday. A month has gone by since I wrote to you last. I wish I had a better excuse than "I've been busy"... but I've been busy. I am slowly realizing that life moves far to fast to be slowly realizing. Tonight, I sit with the lights already turned off. The bright white of the screen is casting a reflective glow onto the open window behind me and a cool summer breeze has found it's way into my room. In this short but needed moment of rest, I reflect upon the road in which my life has taken.

Twenty-four years and some odd days ago, I was born. A seven pound-seven ounce baby girl without a name. A head of peachfuzz attatched to a tiny body with which I knew not what to do. Helpless, cold, and completely at the mercy of others. As the years slowly (yet all too quickly) passed by, I learned things. At first the things I learned seemed simple. How to crawl, how to speak, how to use a fork without damaging the soft palate of my over-used mouth. The simple things soon turned monumental. How to read, tie my shoe, ride a bike. The momumental things I once accomplished turned to memorie, as obstacles previosuly undiscovered were conquered.
Year after year, moment after moment... I grew.
Year after year, moment after moment... I continue.

I am many things. A daughter to two, a sister to one, and a friend to many. I fancy myself a musician, a writer, an appreciator of all things creative. I am vain at times, but humble at others. I am loud with a quiet spirit. Gentle with a harsh tounge. I fear the unreasonable and reason with my fear. I am many things, but above all else I am fragile and I have been broken. Pieces of me have been lost, found, and put back into place. My heart has danced and it has mourned. It has broken, only to be filled again with love more potent than the love before. I stand five foot eight inches of joy personified. I am broken... and I am healed.

I sit here tonight, as the breeze finds it's way to my naked arms and attempt to process this overwhelming feeling of peace. I'm not sure I knew I had lost this feeling before. Perhaps it was never mine to begin with. It's as if I have spend the last twenty-four years as a blindfolded bull in a shop full of crystal trying my hardest to watch out for the Waterford. This bull is out of her shop and upon looking behind her, the goblets and vases and chandeliers remain intact.

I don't know where this leaves me. To be honest, I'm not even sure the purpose of these paragraphs... but I do know that year by year.... moment by moment... I grow.
Year by year... moment by moment... I am me.