Perhaps this is the wrong word, but this is where I begin. Right now I am listening to the sounds of August, and have allowed myself, perhaps for the first time, to fall in love with this month, this moment, this eventide of perfect breezes.
August, for me, has previously been owned by all my baggage. I did once love it, the sounds, the smells, the light in the evening and morning skies. And it I can't believe how good it feels to be back in that moment of love once again. It's been a long time.
I think, perhaps, this is what happens when you finally let go, and really mean it, of everything that ever saddened you or broke your heart. You do heal. You do move on. You do dream new dreams. And you arm for battle and do battle, as needed. What a comfort it is, in some ways, to have lived this long. Because nothing is ever as bad as you think it is, and even if it is, you roll up your sleeves, and you get on with whatever needs getting on with. You do live through it. And you do learn to appreciate the calm between the storms.
A lot of this has to do, I think, with the friend Nic made this week. Even if it doesn't last, this is still something he did on his own, without me.
And now I know for sure that it can happen. Because it did.
And that's good enough for me.