and a day,
and what a day it was!
What a year!
What a life!
I can’t help but be pleased
every Valentine’s Day
and bask in my singularity.
Love is often about gratitude,
and I’m so grateful to have been born
into a loving family,
into a house where stories covered every wall,
like rainbows through a prism
that was my brothers and sister and parents.
And I’m grateful for my friends,
even if it’s hard to put into words how much I love them,
especially for those who,
distressed by the weight of the world,
seem to have given up on words entirely;
given up too young.
When we were in high school,
we had tea parties on my living room floor,
adorned in sun dresses,
and discussed the power of stories,
as if words could float like soap bubbles though the air,
shimmering and popping on our skin.
Words were power,
and we were the ones who made the words.
But now you’ve given up that power,
or given up on that power.
Who made you so disillusioned
Who made you forget that you used to read
more books in a year
then I’ve read in a life time?
You used to write down quotes you loved;
I wonder where that notebook is now…
Today I am twenty-eight years old and a day,
and I still feel very young,
but also oddly accomplished.
I’ve written three books,
work two jobs,
and study one topic all day long.
In a roundabout way,
I’m living my dream.
And as I sit here,
on the first unbirthday of my twenty-eighth year,
holding my book in my hands,
I feel grateful for all the people I love,
even those I can never tell.
I think this story is about love;
I think all good stories are,
and I hope that in a roundabout way,
my words can reach out to my friends
and give them power
and show them love.
On a final, more clerical note, I've decided to officially change my blog update days to Wednesday (except for March 7th!!!). My classes this semester require posting on Monday and Tuesday (boo!!!) and I'll be picking up a Tuesday evening shift at the library in a few weeks (yay!!!), so posting on Wednesdays will be easier for me.