Still.

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It’s November. Man, this year flew by. I’m glad it has. It’s been a difficult one for my head & heart. Though I feel I have come out stronger and better for it. That’s the story I am telling myself and I believe it. At least at this moment…

It’s 3:33am on Saturday, November 1st. I’m listening to Ryuichi Sakomoto’s Casa album while it rains outside.  Next to me I have my stationery, stamps and pen at the ready. Writing to dear friends who live in Austin and Louisville. Reflecting on the craziness I experienced with my mom a few weeks ago (which I wrote about here), looking forward to the adventures my buddies and I will be getting into during the holidays, a cousin’s wedding in December, travel plans next year and what I’ll be doing for my birthday, and so much more.  I am glad I am here… at this place of being fully entrenched in the simple things and letting that feed me. Being here in this place of wanting, desiring and looking forward to: the better, the best of what life has in store (again). That didn’t seem possible many months ago, but I’m telling a different story to you now.

So, let’s talk about the little (and big things) that I still love and appreciate:

Sunsets still give me life, I still love listening to bossa nova & jazz during the late late hours, I still love writing letters by hand. I enjoy going to the post office to pick up stamps. I still love hanging out with my mom who is one of my favorite people on earth. I absolutely love watching my niece and nephew grow up through the eyes of my sister-in-law and older brother. I think they are such great parents. My brothers still make me laugh and teach me things even if they do not know it.  I love my job. I absolutely adore my coworkers. My dearest friends are also my family and I am grateful for all the lessons they’ve taught me simply for being who they are. We have busy lives, but when we get together we laugh. We laugh a lot. I still love taking the long way home just so I can listen to NPR’s All Things Considered in full.  I still love donuts and fried chicken, separately and together in one meal. I still love making things by hand. I still love taking photos. I still love listening to music every possible moment of the day. I still love going to live shows, closing my eyes when a song just hits me right in the heart. Tearing up a little when that happens. I still love pancakes over waffles. Mango with sticky rice is still my go-to dessert. I still love taking a different way home after meeting up with friends for yoga or some other thing — stumbling into street art and graffiti. I still love watching paranormal shows and listening to ghost stories. I still love watching PBS and Oprah on Sundays. I still love listening to elders in my family and soaking up their stories.

I feel rich. I feel richer now as the waves of painful sadness start to ebb. I’m appreciating every fiber of all these simple things differently. The grip at me now in a way that I cannot describe. Perhaps I’m just growing up. Or perhaps it is knowing that many of these incredible things do not last. But at least I’ve arrived at this comfortable space —  in this place of loving what I have, letting that be enough and allowing what will come to come.