Chapter 6

I seem to turn to this blog when I go somewhere new, as though a new place is the only thing worthy of my attention. Eventually "new" becomes "norm" and I stop. Journaling reminds me to stop and reflect on this life, a life that seems to pass with increasing speed. 1980 does not feel that far away, but I am reminded that it is when I meet adults who were born that year. For the record, this freaks me out.

They say that the body regenerates every seven years, which means that we become a new person. I'm coming up on my 6th batch of seven years, and as I think about the major changes I've undergone as of late, I am coming to realize that my regeneration is not only physical. These moments are those electric ones speckled with juxtapositions of pain and brilliance. I welcomed the recent rains, not only because the land needs it, but also because it makes me feel alive. As a dear friend recently said, it's like a baptism, one drop at a time.

My shell opens and in pours the light. I have gone back to the dance floor and my habit of dancing alone with my eyes closed. I go for me, to feel the bass in my heart and wander around the crowd like the butterfly I am. I have a new relationship with my writing: no longer shy, no longer scared. I have something to say. I am returning to me.

As this chapter comes to a close, I glean a glimpse of what is to come and I am beyond hopeful. I find a beautiful child with wisdom beyond her years and I open my heart to her. I know her.