Today, I finished the rough draft of the story I have been working on this spring. It is a very skeletal version of the book I hope it will be someday, but I’m still quite pleased. I can’t wait to dive in and put some flesh on its bones.

The last chapter is very short, and like the first chapter, it is called The Beginning.

That was the last time any of us stepped inside the yellow house. It sat empty for several months, and then the “For Rent” sign fell, and the dark windows glowed with light, again. I’m not sure what those people are like or if the yellow house was as kind to them as it was to us. Maybe someday, I’ll ask it as I walk by. Maybe it will answer.

Eric Jon’s phone number is still tucked, untouched, in my cell phone. I can’t bring myself to call him. I can’t bring myself to erase it, either. His life, now, is a mystery to me, like he is, but I still love him and always will. Like the words in that old, crumpled letter, he was a friend when I needed one most.

I read, once, that love endures. I think that must be true. Your love for me has been constant as the sun, whether I’ve seen it or not. I don’t think I’ve ever fallen out of love. I still love the boy I loved that spring. I still love the one before him. I still love the friend I looked up at the sky with in high school. I still love the boy who ate apples with me on the bus. I still love the girl I sang with in the back of my parent’s car. I will always love my best friends.

This constant flow of love, that has sometimes worried me and often caused aches deep in my chest, is what I now take comfort in. It is a comfort, as the houses and cities and plane rides between us grow, that I will always love the Gorham girls. That love will change, but it will never diminish.

Sometimes, I disbelieve the miraculous. But I have witnessed transformation. I have witnessed full hearts that stir with life. I have witnessed true beauty open like a flower in eight girls one spring. I have felt your breath become mine and your love burning inside my bones, which had always been cold and quiet.

In the beginning was the word, and word was with God and word was God and the word lived inside the fingers and ribs and lips and stomachs and toes of eight girls that left one yellow house on a sunny day in August. The life they carried with them was bigger than their boxes and bags of books and beauty.

this is that new song

The best part of walking aimlessly is all the space it gives for a stroll in the imagination. Spring is my favourite time to daydream. I wonder if that has to do with the way we all looked longingly out the windows at school day after day this time of year. Maybe spring is just a season of possibilities. (Daydreams feed on possibility)

Today, anything seems possible. I don’t even have to remind myself. It comes quite naturally. Anything seems possible. Even living a life doing things I love. Even learning to love in life. Even finishing the laundry.

I feel most like myself in March.

Is there a season you are most at home in?

We’re back from Nebraska.  It was a good trip, and a nice break from our town and our routines.  But I am happy to be back, and ready for ordinary life and springtime.  Even though snow is on the ground, I am feeling the urge to dive into some serious spring cleaning.  Today at a wonderful Easter dinner, I met this wonderful lady who hosts this wonderful website and inspired me to get really get things organized and pleasantly arranged in our little apartment.  It’s easy to be apathetic and lazy when Adam and I plan on moving into a new place in August, but why not make our last months here as pleasant and pretty as possible?

I want to do some serious spring cleaning.  In the apartment, and in my time, and in my head.

That’s all I’ve got today.  Happy Easter, friends.

We’re off to Nebraska for a few days, visiting my husband’s hometown of Lincoln.  See you there, kind friends and readers!

One candle
lights the curtains
and the room that enfolds
me. And the moon
shines like a candle.

You are warm
and alive like the mystery
of fire on wooden chests
and in our hearts.

You have a way of warming
me, kinder than any other flame,
more captivating, consuming
to the end.

Wherever you are today, you are
here, lighting the room that enfolds,
lighting my heart
like the moon.

when breeze touching the curtains

and rooms are full of sun

and orange juice tastes extra good

and on break at work, you can take your tea outside.

1. Remembering the delight of wine and conversation last night with Hannah.

2. Knowing we have a double sushi date tonight.

3. This music video, which I secretly like as much as I did in Middle School.

4. Hanging out and eating fantastic Indian food with Adam’s family.

5. Eating leftover cake for breakfast.

Oh, and 6. A phonecall from Janelle.

Oh, and 7. Nice thoughts in my head.

Feel free to leave your 5 (or six) (or seven)

Today is a very important day. If I had a calender, today would have five circles and three hearts around it. That’s how important it is. It is also quite possibly my very favourite holiday. And not just because I get to bake cake. No, that’s just a perk, really. The important part of today is that 24 years ago, Adam was born, and I am so glad he was!

I hope all your birthday wishes come true, dear.

Three cheers for my wonderful husband!