I finished my South Africa scrapbook last night. In a week I will bring it back to Michigan with me and I will leave it there, hiding under my bed or shoved in my closet. It seems as though its completion has come at a very pertinent time.
My existence seems surreal, partly lacking passion and partly living with a self-induced numbness. Justification. Everything happens for a reason. Can I decide the reason? I have choices too. And I want to choose to be happy because this is where I want to be (it's where I've chosen to be), because this is where I'm supposed to be, I really feel that in my heart-- I'm supposed to be here, with Rowan. And if I wasn't here? I would always wonder why I never gave myself the chance to become better at something that is so important to me. I've realized that I can't be happy with someone else unless I'm happy with myself and my choices.
And in some ways I feel freer, it's back to focusing on myself-- what are the things I want to do to make myself into a better person?
I'm still very hurt but I've finally decided to stop being so gray with myself and to listen to my heart. To trust it. And be quiet with it. To listen to the wind in the pine trees and remember Christmas in Michigan with the family, searching for the perfect blue spruce. The rain on the roof, remembering Westmoreland. Settling into a saddle which feels so familiar and safe. Rowan smelling my hair. Your hands on my lower back. ....and know that it was real.
"This is how it works:
you peer inside yourself,
you take the things you like,
and try to love the things you took,
and then you take that love you made
and stick it into some
someone else's heart" (Regina Spektor)
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment