This year, the days spanning from May of 2013 until right now, has been enormous and filled with more than I ever felt I had a right to imagine. Hours have been spent with my heart sitting out on a limb and my toes crossing the boundaries of my carefully drawn box. Minutes were spent charging dreams and making new ones.
Birthdays and anniversaries make me dig deeper through the recesses of my mind. They make me look back and catalog the past and look to the future to carefully sketch out a path…drawn thinly in pencil.
See today, May 8th, is my book-iversary. Exactly one year ago, Tripped Up Love made its way into the world. And that changed everything. I now know with a new clarity that I can accomplish things—big things that mean something to me. Goals have become less abstract. Items have fallen off of my bucket list.
And this almost-here-birthday is making me think of this big, broad life. Forty-two years spent floating around trying to make sense of this thing we call reality. I’ve known Justin longer than I haven’t known him. I’ve been able to drink legally for as long as I haven’t been able to. Twenty-one years ago, Justin took me home to my apartment and sent me to bed with a garbage bag lining my sheets. And now that baseball-hat-wearing lost college student is a baseball-hat-wearing mama figuring out what truths actually matter.
I think I’ve got it figured out. I think I know what matters. I think I know where my priorities fall. And if I don’t, I’ve given myself permission…permission to mess up and try again…and I think this year is going to be even better.