(this is painfully optimistic and full of all sorts of mush that may require you to step back and take deep breaths just so you don't fill-up with too much goo. I promise tomorrow after the glee wears off, I'll be back to my regular tone. Until then....)
In the other space I wrote a monthly news letter to the previous month. Noting notable moments, lessons learned and recapping experience. It was one of those things that helped me understand what exactly took place over the last 30 or so days. And since leaving the other space I have decided to change things up a bit. But March requires a lovely hand written note with a spritz of lilac perfume.
Dear March,
You were one of those months which required I relearned every bone in my body. I paid more attention to my collar bone and the way my frontal bone protrudes. I spent time on my metacarpals and traced every inch of my femur - looking for answers to some very complicated questions. March, you were one of those months that required an exorbitant amount of attention. You brought fourth startling confessions regarding startling subjects.
I have to say, I am relieved that these pesky little implications were left with yesterday, because they were all (too) incredibly honest, real and with out airs - the scariest kind of subjects. Even now, when I sit and do my very best to get all these moments fluttering around to align so I can put them together and tell you all about them - they have taken to being a bit unruly and ruffled the dates on the calendar. And now, only after a day like today, I've got it tall figured out and the dates have aligned themselves into a stick straight line of sequential numbers.
I've discovered that every morning, each time daylight tickles your fingertips she creates a brand new opportunity to be you. That each and every morning - no matter how it is we saluted the moon - can be 100% brand new - without history or roots.
March, I can feel you in the back of my throat, milling around. Waiting to see if you can make your way into April. But, please, don't think about it too much. I plan on keeping all these moments we've had together pinned to the inside of my eyelids. My heart isn't quite strong enough to forget or (worse yet) relearn all that we learned together.
April,
I've gone ahead and planted a few seeds in your back yard. Be prepared for bands made up of unkempt boys who smell of cigarettes and whisky, late nights, and dirty toes. I have a feeling that you will be one of those month's I'll have to revisit via digital photos and storytelling.
So, thanks again March. And, April? Please, for the sake of giggles, be a bit lighter then your predecessor. I am falling behind on my laugh line quota.
High fives and raspberries,
A
In the other space I wrote a monthly news letter to the previous month. Noting notable moments, lessons learned and recapping experience. It was one of those things that helped me understand what exactly took place over the last 30 or so days. And since leaving the other space I have decided to change things up a bit. But March requires a lovely hand written note with a spritz of lilac perfume.
Dear March,
You were one of those months which required I relearned every bone in my body. I paid more attention to my collar bone and the way my frontal bone protrudes. I spent time on my metacarpals and traced every inch of my femur - looking for answers to some very complicated questions. March, you were one of those months that required an exorbitant amount of attention. You brought fourth startling confessions regarding startling subjects.
I have to say, I am relieved that these pesky little implications were left with yesterday, because they were all (too) incredibly honest, real and with out airs - the scariest kind of subjects. Even now, when I sit and do my very best to get all these moments fluttering around to align so I can put them together and tell you all about them - they have taken to being a bit unruly and ruffled the dates on the calendar. And now, only after a day like today, I've got it tall figured out and the dates have aligned themselves into a stick straight line of sequential numbers.
I've discovered that every morning, each time daylight tickles your fingertips she creates a brand new opportunity to be you. That each and every morning - no matter how it is we saluted the moon - can be 100% brand new - without history or roots.
March, I can feel you in the back of my throat, milling around. Waiting to see if you can make your way into April. But, please, don't think about it too much. I plan on keeping all these moments we've had together pinned to the inside of my eyelids. My heart isn't quite strong enough to forget or (worse yet) relearn all that we learned together.
April,
I've gone ahead and planted a few seeds in your back yard. Be prepared for bands made up of unkempt boys who smell of cigarettes and whisky, late nights, and dirty toes. I have a feeling that you will be one of those month's I'll have to revisit via digital photos and storytelling.
So, thanks again March. And, April? Please, for the sake of giggles, be a bit lighter then your predecessor. I am falling behind on my laugh line quota.
High fives and raspberries,
A
posted by Amanda Mae at 9:49 PM
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