I'm exsausted but I can't sleep. I don't understand how my body can betray me like this , but yes it does...and far too often I might add. The windows are open and I can hear the Washington rain pour down and I want to disappear. In bed the other night I asked Nick if he thought about the past much. I already knew the answer. He doesn't. I do. I like memories. I love catching a smell, or hearing a sound that makes me feel something I've lived before. And so my husband helps me live courageously in the present, focused on building a beautiful tomorrow, and I secretly lay in the dark and revel in the stories of my life. I blame my dad. He's filled my life with tales, some true, many make believe, but all good, and all burned into my heart. A life that makes a great story is strewn with ups and downs, great highs and terrible lows, love, heatbreak, failure, success, dissapointments and dreams.
Lately I feel like I'm in a constant battle between who I am, and who I am. I know it doesn't make sense, but things get so busy, I see life passing too quickly and wonder how I'm ever going to grow up to be the woman I'm supposed to be. I sleep tonight, intensly waiting for this chapter of my life to start and to end, so that I can finally see what kind of story I'm fit to become.