welcome summer, warm & tender.

why is it when the warmth comes and the classes end I itch to travel?


why do I just want to get in my car and drive all over the country, or grab a ticket and board a plane?

yet I never think about summer until it smacks me in the face.
a pleasantly rude awakening, and I'm suddenly seeing colors
and smelling flowers. there's night swimming and star gazing.

yet, and there's vulnerability in my saying so, summers away from college town tend to bring a sense of isolation. The realization that everyone grows up eventually. the understanding of how childlike all my growing tends to be.

my sisters and i, we stare into our mirrors and we feel older, we feel aged and weathered from the beating sun. yet we see the same young flesh, the same fresh eyes. Somewhere deep down, we sense the hope of tomorrow burning inside of us. that is something beautiful, something unsinkable, uncontainable. A brilliant blaze.

Time speeds by like a blur in all its increasing irrelevance, leaving me dizzy and breathless. All these thoughts flood my head, spill out clumsily in words and stammered breaths. I won't stop thinking, I won't stop living, and I won't let a person tell me what I can and can't be. God, you are my floor and my ceiling. I will exist in the peace and confidence of your infinity, terrifying as it may be.

I lie face up staring at the ceiling-- thinking, waiting, breathing. I feel the sudden urge to run, to use my legs and hands and arms to run and jump, to dance and build. I want to fill my lungs with sweet air and hold on tight to the fleeting moments before they're lost. I don't want to take the value of life for granted.

dear world, I am a blatant romantic. I don't think it steps outside of the realm of realistic, though. The picture only tends to become more clear when you add a little color to it. life is understandably priceless, precious and valuable beyond measure.

la vie en rose.

my head continually goes to war with my heart.
one day the two will eventually come to peaceful terms and agree.

dear world, I am childish and impatient. my crafty hands and feet fidget to move... both literally and metaphorically, speaking. I could stamp my feet and roll my eyes at life, but it wouldn't do a bit of good.