It's always at the point of renewal and reminders of who I really am, that I remember my desire, my love of writing. Shelved behind the other more "important" things to check-off in my day to day, I'm always a bit embarrassed to be coming back here. Still, words and the expression of words from heart to brain to paper has never ceased to mercifully allow me freedom, peace, and joy.
I've found some alone time, for the first time it seems, since my marriage. A weekend to myself. T'was a weekend of empathy for Doctor Watson as he cried over Sherlock, a marveling and despising of Moffat & Gatiss for the cliff-hanging end, while I munched on spinach leaves, my favorite, feeling great, and danced to Ricky Martin and Cierra or browsed through Saturday morning cartoons, when I needed a break from planning lessons and wrapping up the rest of this long, arduous semester.
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One of my best friends is happily married today. I scavenged through every fb photo for more of the wedding and each photo brought me back to my own wedding. The day that the rest of my life began. It really was a beautiful day. But, as I have had trouble recalling in the past months, there will be another wedding, very soon.
19 more days, and I will be back to the place where all of it really started. The place of my first love. The place where He called me out of the tangles of religion and self-righteous pedestals and submerged me into the depths of his calm, ferocious love. A place I could breathe. Deeply breathe.
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