one would think that living in the middle of the country means a nice even mix of weather and temperatures, but really all that means is we get both extremes. if the days are not cloudy and cold, think with moisture, biting wind and the texture and drama of overhanging clouds, then they're warm and sunny, spotless blue and exploding green.
why don't i do more of the things that are better for me? just sitting down to write or diving into music or walking around in the freshly cut spring grass, letting its raw, dewy tips tint my toes green. its not that hard to get into, but trying to occupy my mind from remembering bad things traps it rather than setting it free. i'm working on breathing deep and letting the fist that clenches my heart unwrap and latch on to something more worth the precious time.
it's that time of year again. the transitioning seasons when if i'm home, my bedroom windows are never shut, open always, at least partially. it lets in all the good, easy breeze, quiet night air, early dawn bird songs, humidity for parched wood instrument friends after the drying winter furnace. it's like getting to live outside, letting the outdoors in.
the other day i finished high school for good, so we went and ate ice cream. it's very sad but i'm also very relived. don't ask me what comes next. don't expect me to be grown up. now i'm here and i'm happy but i'm also still very young. i have time. or maybe i don't. but i am leaving a big part of me behind. a part that i'll never get back. on the heels of that thought is the amazing one of 'who will i become' and 'live happens while we're busy making plans'.
but the sun has been out.
there are still rough moments, but the sun has been out.
the sun has been out in more ways than one.
(let me be at peace with myself, help me be at peace. let it go, let Him take control)
happy lessons - the vespers