Words are terrifying because they can both create and destroy. Because I cling so desperately to them.
I am a woman
but I will not flit between
delicate and empowered.
I will not grace the vase
on your bedside table.
Having to explain, for the 20802375th time, that Yes, I actually enjoy this.
There is one thing I can find solace in—even when God brings us to these challenges, these too-big-to-handle-solo challenges, He promises that we never have to face them alone.
There are books to be read, music to be listened to, voices and memories to soak in. There are people and places and entire worlds outside your front door, just waiting to be discovered. And you can find yourself in all of it.
“A good story is a worm-stick,” my professor says.
But you were my adventure. You were my Friday nights, my cross-country trips, my pounding heart, my spark.
It should make you glow. It should make you smile. It should make you doodle hearts in the corners of your term papers or carve initials into the side of your desk.
Thank you for those full-body, lift-me-in-the-air type of hugs that changed my entire day around, for always wiping my tears (sloppily, but in the kindest way you could).
You suddenly see your life paved out in front of you, magical and terrifying and new.