like you.

if our babies are like you they'll be perfect.

wrinkled foreheads taking the whole world in.
fingers wrapped around mine, love growing with each second.
soft smiles that make my knee caps weak with joy.
poking and prodding me for attention.

if our home is like you i'll stay there forever.

established on solid ground, reaching toward heaven.
safe and offering protection from all of life's unknowns.
a few creaky floorboards that make being human beautiful.
picturesque but humble, quiet but inviting.

sometimes.

sometimes you meet someone, an extraordinary someone, who you feel unworthy of. yet, you ignore the doubt and dream anyway.

like that song by the smith's, you wish that this time you'll get exactly what you want.

and after some time between the skepticism and effort.

your 11:11 pleas. your fortune cookies. your prayers. your wishes on stars. they pay off.

and that someone you most wanted. that third time charm.

he wants you too.

piles and piles of love.

snow is my favorite thing.

and today, the heavens opened and slowly dumped inches of beauty from the sky.

it isn't even the kind that melts in twelve hours.

it is beautiful, ideal-for-snowmen perfection.

it fell slowly, but steadily.

visibility wasn't far, but the roads were clear enough.

and all of these just seemed like a metaphor to me.

i keep thinking that this winter is an outline for romance.

i got the feeling today that i won't be single for much longer.

someone must have poisoned my water to make me fathom such a grandiose idea, but it was there. and it has stuck.

this "omen" of sorts, telling me that good things are coming. that they'll be gradual, but that it will be layed on thick. and it will stay.

there is no guarantee of forever, and i certainly wont know what is coming next. but i'll see just far enough ahead to feel safe and happy and excited.

the snow of 2013, has me full of butterflies.

epiphany on love.

You know that Ingrid Michaelson song? The one that was on that Grey's episode a while back; the one about snow. This one:


I was listening to it yesterday and had to stop my car because it hit me.

I love snow.
Snow melts.

But it doesn't matter how many times it melts or summer comes around, I still love snow.

It's almost like the snow being gone makes me appreciate it more.

Well, shouldn't love be the same way? It's supposed to be soft and quiet and unexpected.
It's supposed to shock and awe you.

Yes, sometimes it's going to fade. Sometimes the wind is going to blow it away.

But we shouldn't waste all our time being upset that it melted.
We should just be excited that it's going to come again. Maybe this time it will come faster and harder. And maybe this time it will stay longer.

Maybe this time you will be better prepared.

I'm trying to focus on the happy 'maybe's in life.

a second chance.

Wild Geese -- Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain

are moving across the landscapes,

over the prairies and the deep trees,

the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting --

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things.

This has been my favorite poem for a long time now.

Tonight I was driving home from a very fun evening and was thinking about how far I've come in the last few months.

I've traveled the spectrum of emotion over and over again and still, I am startled by happiness. Startled by confidence.

Tonight I danced and jumped and dove-in face first. I laughed and I counted the things I'm looking forward to. I won.

Back in January this poem was all that kept me going. I simply have to allow myself to love what I love. I have to let the world turn and imagine better things.

Today I consciously saw progress. I looked in the mirror and smiled. I felt funny again. I saw my personality.

I've dreamt of today; of overcoming sorrow and trials. But today wasn't a dream -- it was finally real.

I have prayed for a day when I would be excited about life again.

And it is here.

"To every thing there is a season; and a time to every purpose under heaven.

A time to weep and a time to laugh; a time to mourn and a time to dance.

He hath made every thing beautiful in his time..." - Ecclesiastes 3:1,4,11