This. This is going to be the summer.
Do you get like this in May? Vitamin D starts kicking in, and I feel like hitting the ground dancing. And I make lists in my mind – and resolutions deeper down.
Resolutions that are all about living and breathing and swinging my arms back and forth in the sun.
Because this is a summer I want to remember.
And so. I’m going to wear hats with my best friends on the beach.
I’m going to make ice-cream and put cucumber in my water and learn all about iced tea.
I’m going to wear dresses. I’m going to learn once and for all that over-dressing doesn’t kill you.
(Unless it's about playing volleyball in high heels.)
I’m going to wear cut offs and discover that what you’re wearing is the smallest part of you.
This is the summer I want to get my hands dirty and my feet wet. I want to volunteer more. I want to worry about myself less.
This is going to be the summer where I fall in love with reading again. Heck, I’m going to fall in love with Mr. Knightly himself. I’ll make the journey to the Crack of Doom.
I’ll go on more walks, smile at more people, get down on my knees beside the little ones.
I’m going to make that quilt that reminds me of sailing on the river and be happy when the garden grows weeds.
I hope it’s going to be a wind flying, music playing, messy time. Not perfect – but good.
And at the end of these three short months, I’ll turn 22.
I don’t know – you guys who can get a grip are probably laughing at me right now – but it’s true and scary. I’m not where I thought I would be at 22. I’m not. And sometimes I’m not sure I really like where I am.
But it occurs to me from time to time, that those wants and wishes and demands we make on life, are not really what it's all about.
And if things aren’t the way I planned, then it simply means there is something better for me ahead. No - not even ahead. Maybe the better begins right now.
You know? Just because life’s not perfect and I don’t have what I wish I had, does not make every day less breathtakingly wondrous.
If the worth and joy of my life depended on getting what I want, then maybe I’d have a reason to turn my face away from the sun. But it - this good life - actually doesn’t depend on that.
And every summer moment of laughter and flowers and frustration and growing can be more lovely then the last. Its OK to be content – more then content – let’s be overflowing.
It’s a thing.