In my 31st year (my birthday post, indulge me if you will)...
I see this as the year of settling into myself. Enjoying the things I enjoy because I find them interesting and hope-filled and beautiful. I will not be someone else, or attempt to be, or yearn to be. I will be me.
I will study art. Maybe just in passing pinterest glances, maybe in books or galleries, but I will find beauty around me. I will appreciate the gifts of others who imitate their creator through creating. It will bring hope when the news seems hopeless. This will be a year of art.
I will dream of a farm or a garden at least. A someday garden. And a someday house where little trinkets and memories will adorn the built-in bookshelves and my daughters will reach for a kleenex from the cutest damn whale I ever did see. And there will be books all around, and art, of course. Someday.
I will wear earrings. I may even get myself a hairdo (maybe). Because these are the simple things that put a skip in my step, and skipping is in order when you turn 31.
I will work. It is who I am and even when I read a whole litany of Facebook updates about mamas and their kiddos at the park on a glorious day, I will smile for their good work and smile for mine. I will work well and hard and know that my girls are ok with that, and so am I.
I will dabble in creative ventures. Perhaps taking a few photos or sketching or writing. I will be ok with tucking my dabblings into a journal that sits on a shelf. I can dabble for dabbling sake, to enjoy the creating.
And I will love as best I can. Love always, especially when you're 31.
1 month ago