I don't know what to write. This is me, saying hello, writing.
I've lost myself within myself and it seems I have been here for quite a while now. I confessed that recently. I'm ready for a change. I have not been who I know I am. But I'm becoming who I dream of being.
Can I confess something? I'm not bragging but I dream bigger than most. Is that ok? Is it ok that I want to speak things unspeakable while reaching for those unreachable? Because I do, and I will. Continuing with this confession: I have a soft way about me, and I hate it. I tear up at every little thing. Mostly things with people, and hearts and dreams. I'm a dreamer. I believe in dreams and dream to believe.
My brother flew in from Colorado and surprised my mom. All weekend she has been on cloud nine. I love my family. Though we were shattered, there was never a hint of brokenness within our circle. Never once growing up did I look around and say "something is missing, something is different." We laugh together, cry together. So, here's to you mom, for not leaving it to beaver.
I'll bring this in for a landing. I guess there isn't a way to tie these two in. There usually never is. I was reading a letter my sister wrote to my brother back in 1997 (we were looking through old pictures, like EVERY family.) And I started to tear up. I hate it when I do that. Seriously, I do. I could be watching the dumbest movie, and the stupidest part will grip me and I get a lump in my throat.
There's so many things I want to say but I think I need to leave room for another post that should come sooner. I'll close with this:
armpit hair, sweat, torn jeans, dirt, mud, root beer and tabasco sauce. There, I think I made up for the soft side of this post. I'm a mayun.