Dear Readers,
I've been wanting to write a blog for you all about this past year. About how I've transitioned and have grown into my favorite version of myself. About how Shay and I separated only to find a new way to be closer and better and love each other in a much more realistic and wonderful fashion. I've wanted to tell you that my mistakes may not have been mistakes at all but necessary messy turns on my life's path and though I'm sorry that I caused pain I'm not sorry that I've picked myself up and brushed myself off and found out that I am a pretty okay person. Have I mentioned that I broke the year up into three parts of development? 1) Mental health. 2) Physical health. 3) Financial health. And that by dissecting and disassembling and then finally rebuilding each piece of my life's pie I found my way out of sadness and grief and replaced them with peace of mind? In 2013 my dad was ill and that was scary and awful, but it reminded me how much I love and admire him. In the fall I learned to tap dance and learned that I'm not great at it. In December I found out that something I'd written had been accepted to be published, and I blushed and was excited and mortified at the same time. I learned the art of enjoying my home life and gained a fairly substantial distaste for being out late at night. I hung out with women: gracious, beautiful, smart, successful women, and found that their company is better than I ever imagined it could be with a bunch of girls. I said goodbye to some dear friends and shipped them off all over the country and the world. Really, there is so much I want to tell you about. But I don't know how to write it and I'm not certain that you care anyhow, and to be wholly honest some of it's too personal and some of it's me trying to say I'm sorry to people I have no business apologizing to and a bit of it is a type of therapy for me and maybe I just shouldn't be so open on the World Wide Web.
So instead, here's a piece I wrote at my writing group this morning that I feel pretty okay inside about. It's called "Rain or Dreams or Both".
Walking on the rooftops of barns I am careful to balance and take one step at a time one foot in front of the next. I am up so high and my arms are straight out as if I'm ready for flight. I smell the hay and the wind blows my hair.
The wind blows my hair.
I love my hair long and crazy and being pulled this way and that in your breezy fingers. I feel alive and I feel you. I always feel you in the wind. I hear your whispers and let you kiss me soft and sweet. It's not passionate it never was it's just you brushing your lips on my cheek and saying so quiet (but it screamed in my heart), "I love you so much I wish I could just show you."
You watch as I walk on the rooftops of barns I can't see you but I feel you and I know whether I fall or not you're going to catch me in your waiting arms and we'll embrace as if we haven't seen each other in years - which is the reality my friend. It's been far too long.
I love these days your poem etched into my eyelids as I keep them closed to enhance the smell taste feel of the plip plop rain.
The rain scent from the ground
Who else loves the wind and warmth?
Ending all pendings.
How did I get on top of this barn and why is it vital that I balance my clumsy self across it's roof? I have nothing to prove any more. I'm no longer a know-it-all rather a person of experience. My mistakes are my own and I treasure each and every one of them and pull them out from time to time to remind myself that I am capable of falling but able to fly and I love each and every scar like a child.
The barn is brown and not red and the sky is blue but in reality it's gray and murky and it's brooding and full and so obviously has something on it's mind. It's okay to cry, Sky. My path has led me to empathy and I understand, Sky. Hold my hand Sky and we'll walk across this rooftop together and we'll be wet with your rain and my tear but we won't be alone at these heights and our friend the wind will be there.
I love you too.
Sincerely,
h.
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