There are things to do here, things I missed. People to (literally) run into daily. Abandoned roads to drive down and scream at the impending excitement and darkness. Treasure, not always tangible, to find. Love to communicate! Songs to listen to, albums to live in, letters to paint, cars to name after food network celebrities. Videos to make, news to spread, phrases to repeat. Melodies to write! Lyrics to pen! Classes to sit up straight in. Literature to rest between the lines of and not just purchase.
I've missed not having time, not creating. There's an energy here that encourages me to speak up, to ask a million questions, to flail my arms in some white-girl dancing position 24/7.There's a never-ending list things to talk about, conversations that last four hours by a lake to solidify the fact that God's here and he's got me here for a reason. We're certainly not Ivy League in any sense nor out every weekend til the sun comes up, but all of this matters so much and is not filler time. I'm growing up by myself yet still leaning so desperately and heavily on these refined friends-become-family and it's barely been a substantial week. LET'S GO! No seriously, I've met the hands (with these hands) to hold me together so I don't break like I always have, so let's go! Boldly, even!
If last year's soundtrack ended with Win Butler longing to stay, this year begins with a freeing eight-minute-and-thirty-eight-second borrowed solo that makes me kinda dizzy from all the goodness. Too soon? Ask me tomorrow. Cause I mean it- this place of life and love right here is more than enough, but it's all we got. So what's the equation everyday? No waiting, no putting off. Let's steadily keeping going- cause we're bold, we're bold as love.
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