There are more elaborate, more poetic, more profound ways of putting all of this but right now, I just want to write everything IN ALL CAPS:
BECAUSE I AM HOME AND GET TO EAT FLAKY PASTRIES AND HUG MY FRIENDS AND DRINK MIMOSAS ON PLAYGROUNDS AND PLAY SHARKS AND MINNOWS WITH HUNDREDS OF TINY HUMANS AND SIT NEXT TO THE BAYOU AND JUMP OUT FROM BEHIND DOORS AND SHRIEK WITH DELIGHT AT SEEING ALL OF THESE PEOPLE WHOM I HAVE MISSED SO SO MUCH AND Y’ALL!! I AM HOME.
Weird happy hand dances 4 dayz.
In celebration, I took a walk along the Bayou the other day, checking out the spots where gators tend to pop up, looking at the Music Tree carved into the banks, and finding myself at the June Project spot I had nailed into a tree many moons ago.
And y’all. There were letters. Lots of them.
Letters to places, to babies, to loved ones, to ice cream cones.
Nestled amidst them, I pulled this one (featured below) from the bunch and had to sit down for a little while to “process.” Aka cry uncontrollably at the beauty and vulnerability of it all. Voilà et amusez-vous:
I try to walk around as if everyday is extraordinary. With new eyes, fresh senses. The joyful awe of a child.
But the automatic gratitude of someone brought back from the brink is never really automatic. It has to be worked on. Every day.
You brought me back from the precipice. You brought me back then left me here. A tough lesson, but a necessary one– I can be whole on my own.
I am surrounded by love. Enveloped.
You told me to live, and since that moment, everyday is a love letter to you. We may never speak again, but I love you.
We are selfish and scared and lonely and beautiful.
We may never speak again but I love you and will love you. Always.
It’s the type of unending gratitude that is love for someone who truly sees you as you.
Thank you. Thank you.
For reminding me to seek my life.