"i suppose i do have a suitor, but i'm not really used to him yet. he's terribly charming and he plies me with delicious meals, but sometimes i think i prefer suitors in books rather than right in front of me. how awful, backward, cowardly, and mentally warped that will be if it turns out to be true."
--the guernsey literary and potato peel pie society, mary ann shaffer & annie barrows

optimist?

"but if you close your eyes, does it almost feel like nothing changed at all?
and if you close your eyes, does it almost feel like you've been here before?
how am i gonna be an optimist about this?"
--pompeii, bastille


things that i've lost over the years:
--my loud, loud laugh
--my ability to be outgoing and silly
--stories of some of our most memorable/outrageous escapades
--easily falling in love with people, places, mannerisms, quirks
--optimism
--storytelling/writing skills
--generosity
--curiosity
--spontaneity
--a myriad of other less tangible things


of course, as we get older, we change. sometimes those changes are sudden, and other times, incredibly gradual. this is the way things work. but sometimes, you look back and it's alarming how much things have changed. how much you have changed. in some ways, for the better. and in some ways, not so much.

the last few months, i've been thinking a lot of how i've changed. there's certain qualities i've lost over the years. what's most interesting though, is that some of these are qualities that i consider to be my most defining. and yet, they no longer are. so what does that mean?

there have been two weekends in the last six weeks where i felt like an older version of myself. it was so freeing. and perfect. i felt like me. i was surrounded by some of my most favorite people (which always helps) and my heart was so full of love and happiness. i could literally feel it expanding to contain all of the excitement and laughter and love. it was beautiful. and encouraging.

i can get back to that. i will get back to that.

oh, you know...

it's one of those days where i just really need a hug. and my best friends. 

a series of days where i have been wrapped up in the past and struggling to discern details that were missed and trying to make sense of fragments and feelings and confusions that have stayed with me for all these years.

a series of days where i don't have as much optimism that my hopes will be turned into reality.

a series of days where i've been replaying memories and trying to figure out how i missed so much when i was in the moment. and then questioning whether it was ever even there in the first place.

--like that time at his brother's wedding, when j told me i looked beautiful and i hated that it was months too late.

--or that time p and i went for a long walk around midtown. exploring new streets and getting lost and laughing and sharing ideas. and i was left wondering why we could never get our act together to make it work.

--the time j took me to lunch and was so full of happiness that i couldn't help but be overjoyed for him and his soon-to-be-wife. and then went home and cried because after years of comparing everyone to him, it was definitely never going to happen.

--the time sallie and i drove to the middle of nowhere to see g at his family reunion. and spent hours laughing in a hotel room with his brothers. 

--that month where i was convinced that something was finally going to happen between us, only for e to leave for a summer in mexico and for things to go back to being awkward between us in the fall.

a series of days where i'm questioning all the confusion on my end, all the second-guessing, and awkwardness, and not knowing what to say, and not knowing how to express my feelings, and never being able to fully make sense of a situation. and wondering what it was all supposed to prepare me for.

it's been a series of days where enough has and hasn't happened, that i am certain of the fact that one small, minor incident is going to make me completely break down and sob in the deepest of ways.

"Hang in there. It is astonishing how short a time it can take for very wonderful things to happen."
--Frances Hodgson Burnett

fasting | slowing

the fast is one of my favorite times. a time when things slow down, for contemplation, redirection, and change, for realignment.

this year...has been different. life hasn't slowed down it's pace, leaving this special time of year feeling so very different.

but on the brink of some very big decisions to make, i find that i am doubting myself and doubting change. and so i'm struggling to trust myself, to trust that things happen for a reason, and to trust that, invariably, things happen the way they are supposed to.

one thing that i am certain of is that in my life i have been blessed to cross paths with truly amazing people. and that i am so thankful for the people who have come into my life in the  nearly three years since i moved to north carolina. and that no matter what happens, there will always be kindred spirits to meet and be inspired by.

27

in a few short days, i will celebrate another birthday. i have mixed feelings about this one.

for the last few years, i've been excited about turning 27. i always had a feeling that 27 would bring about some major milestones. i had grand hopes for it and wasn't at all deterred by the fact that it was so close to the supposedly dreaded thirty.

but now on the brink of 27, i have my doubts. this past year has been a difficult one. full of frustration, tears, doubt, and anger. but it has also been a year for incredible people to work their way into my heart.

i am ready for some positive changes. i am ready for these growing pains to lead to joy. but with that comes effort. and a clear vision. and wisdom. and, most importantly, a pure heart.

so this year will be a year full of magic and joy and transformation. it has been decided.

on growing up

when i was young, my favorite tree was the willow tree. i thought they were beautiful. i loved the way their trunks were gnarled and weathered, how they sometimes leaned to the side, how their branches curved so gracefully and the leaves hung like a cover swaying in the breeze.

we planted one in our backyard. i couldn't wait for it to grow big enough for me to settle under its shade with a book. sadly, we didn't stay long enough in that house for that dream to come true. but i still loved that tree. i loved watching how it moved with the wind.

but then, the summer i was 19, i lived in a spot nestled in the redwood forest. trees that grew so high we wondered how tall they must actually be. trees who grow, not towards the light, but straight up towards the sun. trees whose roots grow intertwined together, connecting the trees and providing a support system. trees that grow stronger as a result of fire.

i spent countless hours transfixed by their strength and beauty, taking as many opportunities as possible to roam the forest. redwood trees are, to me, the epitome of strength. adversity only makes them stronger, they never waver in the direction of their growth, and they grow in such a way to support one another.

they are inspiring.