Whirlwind barely begins to describe March. But I can't start talking in hour glasses or my cup will start to seem half empty, when I've possibly never felt more awash with an airiness, a lightness that has not skipped through a pithed puddle heart for a very long time. I, being so smart, rolled eyes at the linguistic lexicon coated around this year - ' life altering', 'best year of your life', 'such a 'learning experience' were for fools and the adventurers. I've rolled oceans since then. And between dates with strange scriptwriters met on the bus, and Canyon crossing (the literal kind too) with a kind of sister I thought could not be found, to finding a kinship in sport and in dive bars on 'thurstdays' with the team, the scared little girl falling apart in red lounges is a ghost long lost along the shores of the Willamette.
Enough of this. I'm whimsical because after three weeks filled with mid-terms and spring breaking and breaking brother's into Portland, I'm just beginning to catch my breath. With Vancouver memories crackling closely in shuttered snapshots, nestling Naima into a pocket box whose lock will never shift, before scanning my brother through airport screens this morning, I must run words twice as far with half the breath to hold them steady. Forgive me, I will do my best to honor both.
But just before, I wanted to try and tell of changes that could fill no words full enough to explain.
I am better. I am brighter. I am well.
Spring is in the air. I think it's catching.
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