A Moment. (a post for friends).

Right now I’m sitting at a bakery, bagel in one hand, a good book in the other, sipping a delicious gingerbread latte, listening to Christmas music…

Thinking…about a moment.

You know those moments in life where you are simply overwhelmed? Not in the I’m going to literally die this dead week sort of a way, but that beautiful sense of overwhelming…something…something that is too good to put into words….it washes over you unexpectedly, and just for a brief second you wish you could stop time and space and hold on to that moment? It usually happens on top of a mountain, in the middle of a thunderstorm, or on Christmas morning….but sometimes…oh sometimes…it happens in the most ordinary of times. When you’re curled up in bed hurting, sipping delicious coffee, or holding someone’s hand.

Well this morning was a sometime morning for me. And like usual, my moment was entirely and completely unexpected, composed of a swirl of memories from yesterday and the past few weeks, little scattered pieces, moments, of friendship hitting me all at once.

The thing about these little pieces of friendship, some brightly colored, others subtle and calming, some smooth, others rough, is this: They may be little in themselves, but together…together they make a beautiful mosaic of community.

I look close and there, there are the broken, bright, aching pieces of myself and of those close to me. I see pain, I see joy, I see reality, I see hopes and dreams, I see encouragement, I see fear. 

I step back.

…

This is my moment.

Here I stand taking in this mosaic, this picture, this masterpiece of friendship and community, of LOVE.

My breath catches in my throat, anyone’s would really.

It is just so beautiful.

…and I am a part of it.

These past few weeks it seems like a number of our hearts have been aching…Struggling to understand our individual pain, fear, and confusion, but not struggling alone. No, this we share, just as we share laughter, vegetables, joy, and tea.

A dear friend’s words echoed in my soul, “Fight for love in a hopeless place”…and boy do we fight like hell. Not just for ourselves, but for each other.

How many people can say they belong to a community like that?

I don’t want to miss this before it is gone. I don’t want to wait until life has pulled all of us our separate ways to acknowledge how brokenly perfect and rare this community is…

So step back with me, just for a “moment” and take it in…See the pieces of yourself in this mosaic, and hold on to it. Because well, we may never be a part of a community quite like this ever again…

And that is something to be thankful for. 

Thanks for taking the broken, confused, and joyful pieces of myself and making them into something so beautiful.

I love you guys.

Hugs for days!!!

Embrace your joy.

My greatest fear is my greatest joy.

I fear being too much...

Too loving, independent, passionate oh so passionate, adventurous, uninhibited, spontaneous, ambitious...too much for someone to handle.

This "too much" aspect of myself is the way Jesus created me.  I think His face breaks out into a massive smile (you know the ones where your eyes, nose, and face crinkle and your eyes start to water?) when I have my "too much" moments. He delights in the way that He made me, He finds joy when he sees me be me, and I have found that these are the moments when I find the most joy too.

...Yet I am slowly learning that uninhibitedly embracing me may include always being too much for a guy to handle.

...and...well, I am also slowly learning that that's ok with me.  

That's ok with me, because I would rather live a life of freedom and great uninhibited joy than let someone try to place me in a box that I simply will not fit in. 

I would rather be alone.

I would rather be alone than be "kind of", "sort of", "some days", or "a little much".

No.

I will be "too much".

I will be me.

...Embrace your joy.

:)

Dessert for Breakfast.

Last night I baked. I had friends over. We laughed and smiled. We ate ice cream with forks and watched Youtube videos.

I felt joy. 

I have missed friendship.

I thought of something I read the other day, “Find someone that can make you laugh and don’t give up on them”.

I hope they don’t give up on me.

Long after they left I sat alone…

I thought. I hurt. I questioned. I tried to understand anything. Plucking at my guitar I sang for what felt like hours.

Music heals me. Kind of like chocolate and friends…kind of like being loved.

                                                                                                                     

This morning I drank tea with my best friend. I shared my heart with her. It was beautiful.

I felt hope. Hope in the freedom of finally being able to confess hopelessness. 

I have missed friendship.

I thought, "Find someone you can be transparent with and don't give up on them".

I hope she doesn’t give up on me.

Hours after we left I found myself suddenly bent over in front of my mirror. Forcing myself to stand up, forcing myself to breathe.

“You are beautiful. You are strong.” I found myself repeating the words to myself over again and again under the vague hope that repetition eventually leads to truth.

It doesn’t.

                                                                                                                      

So I did the only thing I could. I pulled out the left over memories from the night before. Pumpkin spice fall crunch cake, made with friendship and giggles.  And I cut out a piece…

Because…well sometimes you just need to eat dessert for breakfast. 
 

I found Jesus during Ramadan.

As I sit here on my back porch writing, the hum of my computer is drowned out by the symphony of birds singing mixed with the occasional interruption of a rooster cry.  I find myself giggling as I watch our chickens pluck at the ground and strut back and forth, and my heart is filled with memories of the past few weeks. I haven’t written in far too long, and though there are many adventures I could record right now, I would like to choose something simple, beautiful, and unexpected.

I found Jesus during Ramadan.

Sitting on the floor of our friend Ally’s small house, one circle of the girls, one circle of the boys. Eating beans, fish, chapatti, rice patties, roots, sweet potatoes, and peppered porage with our fingers. No utensils, no plates. Just food, family, Allah, Jesus, and love.

Amazing.

Two white, Christian, American girls, welcomed into the arms of a Muslim family, the beaming face of Ally’s mother as she watches us enjoy her cooking and as she encourages us to eat more and more, the giggling of Ally’s brothers and sisters as they watch Happy stuff her face, the calming peace after the meal as we all sit with full stomachs loving across culture and religion.

This is beautiful. This is love. This is what Jesus is all about. 

I wish America could see this. I wish they would show this on the news.

I serve a God that transcends religion. I serve a God that is love. Love is not limited to Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, or Hinduism.

Love is Love, and I just want to be in the middle of it.

Thank you Jesus for Ramadan.

Tears in the Darkness.

Last night Happy and I were alone in our home for the night. As I lay in my bed I was startled by sudden desperate cries drifting through the darkness. I quickly ran into Happy’s room and scooped the little tear stained girl up into my arms, rocking her and assuring her that she was safe and that it was only a dream (looks like I’m not the only one with nightmares here). Her little face buried into my chest as I carried her to my bed and let her crawl under the covers with me. I put on part of a Disney movie in hopes that it would replace any dark scary thoughts with light and giggles. I then put on some calming piano music in hopes that she would fall asleep…

Here I lay on my back with this precious child in my arms, her head nestled into my chest and one of her little hands wrapped tightly around my finger. I could feel the soft steady rise and fall of her breathing as her other hand searched for mine under the covers. Once she found it she held on tightly stroking my thumb with her tiny little fingers... 

This was the moment.

The moment when the tears came.

Silent. Steady. They slid down my face into the darkness.

My thoughts were simple, my emotion helpless as I realized this shouldn’t be me. I shouldn’t be the one holding this little girl in the middle of the night. Her hands shouldn’t be wrapped around mine, they should be wrapped around her mothers.

But Happy doesn’t have a mother…or a father…she has lost all of her family.

Happy is an orphan.

I have always known this, knew this months before coming here, knew it the day I arrived. And yet…

Sometimes we know something but it doesn’t truly become realized, it doesn’t truly become a reality until…a moment. A precious and powerful moment.

This was my moment. 

I knew Happy was an orphan...

I placed her back into her crib for the night and crawled back into my bed alone.  Here I longed for someone to scoop me up, wipe away my tears, hold my head to their chest and tell me that this was all just a bad dream…

But I knew it wasn't.   

So I let the tears come.

Today I...

Today I...

-Did Yoga on my porch
-Prayed
-Drank Tea
-Woke up Happy
-Made Happy tea
-Gave Happy a sticker for peeing in her little toilet
-Changed Happy 
-Made breakfast with Happy
-Did dishes
-Swept the house
-Did laundry outside while Happy played in the dirt
-Changed Happy 
-Danced with Happy
-Danced with Onesmo, Amy, and Happy
-Laughed with Mama Onesmo about all the dancing
-Made Lunch for Happy
-Gave Onesmo and Amy cookies and milk
-Did more dishes
-Changed another diaper
-Put Happy down for a nap
-Put in a Disney movie for Onesmo
-Read Velvet Elvis
-Played guitar
-Sat on my porch
-Sang
-Visited with Juma
-Played more guitar
-Woke up Happy
-Went on a walk with Happy and Onesmo
-Picked oranges
-Had a sword fight with Onesmo
-Beat Onesmo at a sword fight
-Made Happy and Onesmo dinner
-Played soccer with an orange in the house while cooking Happy and Onesmo dinner
-Did more dishes
-Welcomed the rest of my African family into my home
-Cut up water melon and made popcorn for my family
-Sat in front of the fire with my family eating watermelon and popcorn
-Showed Gabriel our dance videos from earlier that day
-Laughed with my family
-Said goodnight to my family
-Did more dishes
-Sat down
-Was encouraged by my friends at home
-Got goodnight kisses from a giggly Happy through my mosquito net
-Was thankful
-Was loved

Today has been...hard.

Right now I am sitting on my mosquito netted bed writing this blog while hyenas howl off in the distance and the beating of an African drum drifts through my house.

Today has been...hard.

So far this week we have already had to go into Arusha twice, take Happy to the doctors, and visit markets close by. And well...I was hit with a harsh realization. A lot of the Africans do not want me here. I am white. I am from America. And well...Some people here will never forgive me for that.

At one of the smaller markets closer to our house, Ksusha and I tried to buy some eggs (there was an entire crate of them sitting in front of our face) and the lady simply waved us away and said they weren't for sale. They weren't for sale...because we were white. Walking with Happy in town stirs mixed emotions as well.  While an American may sigh at the sight of two white girls carrying around a black orphan baby, an African may give us a dirty look letting us know that they don't "need" or "want" our help. It is amazing how easily the words "why don't you go back from where you came from, you don't belong here" can be communicated in just about any culture without the use of words at all (how often do we communicate, "You are welcome, you are loved, come and stay a while" without a language?). It has been made clear to me that the people still carry a lot of hurt and painful memories here.

Should this upset me? How should I feel about this? Is this the part where I pack up my bags say, "Ok fine, I will leave. Thanks for the hospitality, I'll go love on someone else.", or is this when i just love harder, love more, love deeper, and try to show these people that love transcends negative comments, hurtful looks, skin color, and painful memories? That love stays no matter what?

...

I don't know.

Today has been...hard.

A Deliciously Repulsive Breakfast.

It's amazing how a delicious morning breakfast of tea, whole milk, biscuits, and fresh mango can become repulsive in 0.2 seconds. The 0.2 seconds that it takes you to realize (once you've finished eating almost an entire mango) that you just ate worms. Little white squirming and very alive worms. I swear I can feel them crawling around my stomach. For some reason Ksusha finds this whole situation much more humorous than I do. Oh well, when in Africa.

A Trip In The Night.

It's official. Melarome and I are NOT friends (my malaria medication). I write this with heavy eye lids and fluttering anxiety inside my chest.

Last night I laid in bed for hours alternating between praying, thinking, and reading. Eventually I must have drifted off into some type of sleep (not sure if you can call it that since sleep is supposed to be a restful state) because I would toss and turn coming to from some sort of twisted dream.  This happens all night long, a dream like state filled with anxiety and sadness that leads to confusion when I suddenly realize I am awake staring into the darkness of my mosquito net wondering if I ever was asleep at all. I found myself longing to see the glow of morning light and to taste the comfort I know it will bring for the 3rd night in a row now.  In the middle of one of these seemingly endless cycles, Tangawezi (our dog) began barking. I became convinced that someone was trying to break into our house. "Ksusha" I whispered to the bunk below me, "Tangawezi is barking, I think someone is outside". Surprisingly she coherently responded assuring me that this was normal, that he was probably just barking at the moon, and that even if there was someone outside, that all the doors were locked and we were safe. While her argument made complete logical sense, I was adamantly convinced that she was wrong and had no idea what she was talking about.

My mind raced trying to keep up with my imagination (which was now in a full out sprint). I was absolutely convinced that as I lay frozen in my little top bunk, that someone had walked through our front door (obviously Ksusha must have thought she locked it but forgotten), and was currently stealing everything I owned. My computer was what filled me with the most anxiety (how was I going to keep in touch with everyone back home?). I was certain the thief already had it in his grasp as he searched through all my belongings in the other room. I could almost hear him rummaging through my medicine box (thanks to my "be prepared for anything" Harold of a father). "Great" I thought, "He's probably stealing my malaria medicine to sell because it's so flippin expensive!" (maybe that would be for the best come to think of it...) "I'm sure he's found my wallet by now and is taking all my money and my debit card..Great. Wait, where is my wallet anyway? Oh yes, in my back packing backpack...OH NO!!!" Now pure panic truly strikes, "That's where my chocolate is!!!" The thought of this midnight criminal eating my precious chocolate bars sends me into desperate hopelessness and a feeling of unavoidable defeat.

Somewhere in the midst of this ridiculous thought process my mind must have switched to it's dream like "sleep" state, because I am now alternating between trying to convince my brother not to murder someone, illegally making espresso (why making espresso is suddenly illegal and making normal crappy coffee is legal is beyond me, but then again why in the world is Zac trying to shoot someone?), and avoiding rapid gunfire by diving behind giant army made tortuous (teenage mutant ninja turtles on steroids perhaps? ...didn't see any nun chucks though...bummer. Come on Melarome!).

Although i write this now in a much more coherent state of mind (making espresso is obviously not illegal), I was just about 98% certain I was HIV positive this morning. In the fog of this realization (accompanied by a rapid heart beat I couldn't seem to calm down), I was clearly left with no other option but to open a 60% Ghirardelli dark chocolate bar (which surprisingly was untouched by last night's perpetrator...huh) and eat it while staring blankly off into the distance thinking of how I would now never be able to have children of my own, and that I could now never get married...

For those of you confused reading this, let me answer a few questions in case any clarification is needed:

-Did someone break into my house last night? No. 
 -Am I HIV positive? No.
-Is our government currently creating real life teenage mutant ninja turtles? Possibly.
-Am I seriously considering stopping my Malaria medication ASAP before I have a mental breakdown or do something completely ridiculous in the middle of the night? Yes. 

Town.

Today I went into town for the first time. My eyes were glued outside our window as I frantically tried to take in everything around me when suddenly "SWOOSH!" my heart just about stopped as our taxi zipped in between 2 cars as our driver maneuvered our car through the middle of the road. Let me stop for a moment. That's right, the middle of the road. As soon as my heart rate returns to a normal tempo my eyes go back to the ever difficult task of trying to take in all the sights around me. The culture, the people, the trees, mountains, buildings, um is that a goat on a leash? When suddenly my thought process is abruptly interrupted once again, "Bleeeeep!" as a piki piki (motorcycle) cuts in front of us with three people on it, none of which are wearing helmets (Harold would have had a heart attack right then and there, if he hadn't already when he discovered the people don't refridgerate their milk, eggs, or butter here).

As we moved closer and closer into Arusha, my mind felt more and more overwhelmed while the smile inside me grew bigger and bigger. I wish I could somehow put into words the textures, colors, smells, people, buildings, feelings, and sights I experienced through my little car window, but the truth is I can't. It was simply too much for me to take in all at once, too much for my mind to process. All I can say is that I have never been anywhere like this before and...I love it. :) Maybe next time we go in for groceries I won't be so frozen in time and space and I will be able to come to my senses long enough to take some pictures. Until then...let your imagination wonder...we don't use it enough. :)

Chickens and Chocolate.

As of right now I am writing by candle light. The power has been out all day, but Gabriel (he is literally our guardian angel) has come over and made a kubwa moto (big fire) that lights up our kidogo numbani (little home) and is currently warming my heart. today Ksusha and I took Happy for a walk. Africa is simply beautiful. There are children everywhere and I wanted to stop to play with them all. When we got back we heard Mama Numesmo and Gabriel calling us from the chicken coop. We have so many baby chickens! Ksusha and I made Gabriel run around and catch the baby chicks for us so we could hold them, we couldn't stop giggling.

When we walked into our house we found eggs on our counter and realized we had no idea how long they had been there for. We were so scared that we would crack them and there would be a baby chicken inside, so we tried to get Onesmo (Mamma Onesmo and Gabriel's little boy) to crack the egg...but he wouldn't. So I proposed a game so that no one would "kill" the chicken, if it indeed was a chicken at all. Outside our little home Ksusha, Happy (well she just kind of stood there), Onesmo, and I played catch with one of the eggs until someone accidentally dropped it. The suspense was building when Onesmo's little hands slipped followed by a "splat!" and three screams...we all crowded around and...Behold it was a normal egg yolk and all! We all fell into a fit of giggles once again.

I snuck inside and broke off some of the chocolate I brought with me to share with Onesmo and Happy. There we sat on our front steps while the sun silently slipped behind Mt Meru with two little squares of chocolate, breaking them into little pieces with huge smiles on our faces. I know I am a chocolate snob, but I can honestly say that was some of the best chocolate I have ever eaten.

When our squares of chocolate had disappeared, Ksusha and I prepared dinner for the kids by candle light as Onesmo sang in Swahili in between bites of mandarin oranges I would sneak him. I love it here. My soul is at peace and my heart is full with joy, thanks, and anticipation. I have been learning Swahili poley poley (slowly slowly), and have a little journal that I scribble new words in whenever I hear them. We will all be talking when I will hear a new word and suddenly spring across the house for my journal and pencil which is almost always followed by everyone laughing at me. Gabriel told me with a big smile that I will learn in 1 month instead of 4-5 months like everyone else. I'm praying that he is right. As for now I am about to go boil some water for tea, strap my head lamp on, and continue to try and teach myself guitar (dedicated? I think yes.) until the fire dissipates to burning embers and sleep clouds my mind...Usikumwema (Goodnight).

Things I didn't do today...

 I didn’t feed a starving child today, bring together a community, or bring medicine to a sick family. No, I didn’t come close to doing any of those things today. But tonight as the sun was beginning to lower itself behind the thickness of the trees, I found myself giggling uncontrollably with a little two year old who was trying to do yoga with me and found it to be just about the funniest thing she had ever seen. And well for today…that’s good enough for me. : )

And The Adventure Begins.

Shikamo from Tanzania! I apologize in advance if my words are hard to follow, I am currently rather jet lagged and my mind feels like it is a million places. I’ll do my best to give you a glimpse of my current situation however. Right now I am sitting on my back porch as I write, drinking tea and watching the sun fall behind Mount Meru. The sound of Veggie tales plays behind me while Ksusha and Happy watch an episode on her laptop, birds sing all around me, chickens from our coop cluck, cows moo from our neighbors, just down the road I hear children playing, and near by African music is blaring at some sort of celebration. Out of all the noises the children playing is what excites me the most. 

Last night I arrived at the airport, rather exhausted and confused as to what day and time it was, to be picked up by Ksusha and one of the German volunteers named Sara (the two German girls will be leaving in the next couple of weeks). As soon as we got in our taxi I realized that Tanzanian driving is all together different to American driving in the sense that the lines in the road mean just about nothing ha. The power was out when we got home so Ksusha boiled water and put it in a bucket for me to shower with.  Surprisingly enough it’s rather cold right now, so the warm water felt amazing after all of my traveling.

When I woke up this morning I had to remember where I was, I could hear Happy cooing in the crib right below me (we have a full house right now with the 2 German girls and a few friends visiting them, so for now I am sleeping in Ksusha and Happy’s room) as she tossed and turned. After eating breakfast I finally was able to spend some time with Happy. She is seriously the most precious little 2 year old girl on the face of the planet, my heart melted instantly.  She is the tiniest little thing with the biggest smile in the world. Her name is rather fitting. :) After breakfast I started to feel sick so laid down for a while. I am rather certain that the culprit is the malaria medication.  My stomach has been all sorts of crazy ever since I started taking it.  The girls here think I should just stop taking it, but then just last night I got like 5 mosquito bites so I’m not entirely sure what to do…Also I think my stomach is just adjusting to the food here. I’m going to try to stick it out a week and see if my body starts to acclimate to everything before making any big changes like stopping the medication.

Ksusha, Happy, and I just got back from a walk down the road. I was really excited to finally get a glimpse of the culture.  I quickly realized how much I need to learn Swayhili, and fast.  Everyone tried to talk to us but I had no clue what they were saying. As we rounded our first corner a whole herd of little goats ran past us with a little boy, approximately 9 years old, chasing after them with a stick.  Ksusha explained that many of the children herd the animals instead of going to school because their families can not afford it. The second corner we rounded brought an African woman balancing a huge bag of rice on her head as she walked, and the third brought a small cluster of children very excited about seeing two white girls.  They were very shy but had huge smiles spread across their faces.  I tried to communicate with them, but failed rather miserably so put out my hand for a high five. They just looked at me like I was a crazy white girl and started giggling. I had to show them what I meant, and then eventually a little boy stepped forward bravely, hit my hand with his, and retreated as quickly as possible. Children are the easiest to communicate with across language barriers. I’m hoping to walk down the road and try to play soccer with some of them later this week, they don’t use a normal soccer ball though, instead they make these little balls, about 1/3 the size of a soccer ball, out of trash bags.

        I have started to ask myself what I have gotten myself into, and the answer that I keep hearing is an adventure. So here’s to adventure and some much needed sleep.

Thunder Storm.

Hair dripping wet- Rejuvenating,

Heart jumping with the Light,

Feet splattering- Pitter-pattering

Head spinning, Heart longing

Adventure stirring,

EXPLOSION!

Hysterical laughter, Emotion dancing

Love and mystery, Power and majesty

Freedom. Freedom. 

Jesus this is fully You,

And now, now this is me. 

Can I hold your hand?

This week Jesus asked to hold my hand...

"Why Jesus?" I asked, "Are you leading me somewhere? Are you helping me through a difficult time? Preparing me for things to come?"

"No." He responded, "I simply wanted to intertwine my fingers with yours...to touch you...to feel the warmth of your fingers, to hold a little part of you..." 

My heart beated, my breath stopped-caught up in a rare moment of true romance.

My hand slipped into his.

Beautiful.

Simple.

Home...

You know that feeling of peace, comfort, and familiarity washing over you when you realize that your heart is home? I felt that in Pohnpei. I knew I was exactly where I was supposed to be, loving the exact 24 children I was supposed to be, and breathing the fresh salty air I was supposed to be...

Yet I find my heart desperately searching for a home now. Comfort, purpose, and reassurance are a mere vapor that I can not seem to grasp.  I want to be at home with who I am, where I am, be at home with my desires, my dreams, my hopes, and the questions in my heart. I want calm and peace in my soul, even though my future is uncertain.

Jesus my faith is lacking. I thought my story would be different somehow...Will you remind me that uncertainty is beautiful? That mystery is adventure? That love is patient? Remind me that when I long for adventures in the rain, kisses on my nose, strong arms holding me safe and tight, grass between my bare toes, and romance in song, that I long for you, and that no matter where I am, or where I am going, that you are home and always will be...

A Moment To Question.

I started off today rushing to class, stressed thinking of all I have to do, and strategically planning how I will get as much accomplished as possible before Sabbath hits quite early tomorrow afternoon. I found myself rather agitated throughout the morning, and realized that I was definitely not the only one rushing.  Everyone seemed to be running somewhere, and alas this is our culture. This is American culture, we’re supposed to be achievers, strivers, accomplishers….but of what?

If we could choose the type of life we wanted to live is this what we would choose? Would we cram our schedules full, would we pour our time and energy into papers and assignments and extra curricular activities?

Is this really how we want to live? Is this how Jesus calls us to live?

What if we woke up in the morning and just took time to sit, think, read, and drink a cup of tea? What if we walked to class or to work, stopping to chat to friends and acquaintances along the way? What if we cooked dinner with family and friends every night taking the time to be thankful for our blessings, our food, and taking time to develop relationships? What if we made people the priority?

Because Jesus made people a priority.

 I seriously struggle with these questions some days. And well, today is one of them.  Midterms are next week meaning that I have 3 tests and 2 papers.  I know I’ll make it through, get all the studying in, have my papers turned in on time, but will I have spent time on the things that I care about most? Will I sit down with Alexandra Paulsen and seek to understand her heart on a deeper and more beautiful level? Will I snuggle up in a music room late into the evening pouring my heart out onto the black and white keys of a piano? Will I sip tea in the morning and watch the sun rise and leisurely have a wonderful chat with Jesus? Will I attempt to put my dreams and thoughts into words and lyrics and then sing to someone's hurting heart? Will I let my creative side get the best of me and cook an experimental dinner and deliver cookies to friends? Will I do yoga out on my balcony as the sun is gradually setting? Will I write letters to my kids in Pohnpei and remind them how much I love them?

Nope.

So I can’t help but think…there has to be so much more than this. 

Four Words.

Four words for my today...

Alone

Disappointed

Small

Forgotten

Dear Jesus, if I could please choose four words for my tomorrow...

 

Full

Sunshine

Hope

Anticipation

Thanks. You're the best. Hugs. 

A Love Affair

I am saying goodbye to a four year long love affair.  At first it was a love triangle, I was trapped between loyalty and love, and then it definitely turned into a full blown affair.  My heart used to belong to Southern California where I was born and raised.  The thing is, California treated me very well.  I loved the beach sunsets, the sand, the warm weather, and couldn't really see myself living anywhere else...but then...then I met Washington.  I was introduced to fall leaves, the joy of waking up to the first snow of winter, frosted trees, thick forests, chilled rivers, anticipation of spring and the colors that accompany it, a state that seemed to meet my adventurous heart with eager anticipation, challenging me to explore, to be free. 

So dear Southern California, consider this a formal apology.  I'm sorry, but I am now a Washington girl.  I am no longer confused or torn, the triangle has been eliminated, my heart now belongs to the snowcapped mountains, coffee shops, evergreen forests, and fresh air of the NorthWest. So thank you for the good times, for a wonderful childhood, for sunny days at the beach, but....well....I guess what i'm trying to say is...how do I put this? It's not you it's me.  I don't think I see this relationship going anywhere...and to be perfectly honest, I have kind of developed a huge crush on Washington. I hope this doesn't make things awkward between us, and I want you to know that I'd really love it if we could still be friends...