Blog #6 On Time & Christmas

 I wish I could be 5 years old again, even if just for a day. Cuddled up beside that glimmering Christmas tree with my family laughing and sharing stories all around me. Pajamas, twinkling lights, ornaments, that fireplace - sipping on hot apple cider, nibbling on Santa’s warm cookies fresh out of the oven. Not a care in the world about calories, boys, paying bills, accomplishing “enough” every day, becoming successful.   I wish I was 5 years old fully loved and protected - no far off oughts to distract me, no business meetings, no social media. I wish I could go back and relive any one of those days - coloring books, gingerbread houses, peanut butter & jelly sandwiches and all.  I think I might cry with how overwhelmingly grateful I'd be to know how special that was. Part of me wants to go back in time just to tell my younger self to breathe it all in and understand how limited and quickly it'd all be over as if somehow that help me hold on to it. The other half of me is glad that I can’t. I’m glad that somehow that careless joy was never taken away.  I wish I could be in Paris again stepping out of that car in the pouring rain while the Four Seasons Valet held one of their black umbrellas out to help me in. Feeling special, safe, valued. Feeling captivated and intrigued. Feeling like a prize woman, stepping into my own fairy tale for the first time. Elegant, unique, and beautiful. Young at heart for the first time in almost 2 years. I wish I could feel me falling in love again. I wish I could go back to shell of a woman I was 3 years ago broken and betrayed by love and tell her to let go and hold on to her future. That it’d get beautiful again. That she’d feel whole and alive again. I want to relieve that moment of utter excitement that made me want to squeal when I saw my mother as I told her about the joy I felt even if I knew that feeling of was just towards an idea of love that wasn’t created to last.  I wish I was in that airport again, at the beginning of the journey. Stepping into the long awaited moment that I knew would change me profoundly with my suitcase in hand and my mother by my side. That moment I had hoped would come for years and years, the moment I knew would soon be over, the moment I was overwhelmingly grateful to be living in. Life is like a waterslide: you’re thrown into it, sometimes in darkness sometimes in light - falling so fast you can never catch it. You never have a say in the matter, you never have the power to slow it down. Every moment is ours and nothing is ours all at the same time. Every joy taunts our soul with its limits. Every moment escapes before we can touch it. I wish I was 5 years old again. Innocent and doe eyed - unaware of reality and yet somehow more aware of the purpose of it all.

I wish I could be 5 years old again, even if just for a day. Cuddled up beside that glimmering Christmas tree with my family laughing and sharing stories all around me. Pajamas, twinkling lights, ornaments, that fireplace - sipping on hot apple cider, nibbling on Santa’s warm cookies fresh out of the oven. Not a care in the world about calories, boys, paying bills, accomplishing “enough” every day, becoming successful. 

I wish I was 5 years old fully loved and protected - no far off oughts to distract me, no business meetings, no social media. I wish I could go back and relive any one of those days - coloring books, gingerbread houses, peanut butter & jelly sandwiches and all.

I think I might cry with how overwhelmingly grateful I'd be to know how special that was. Part of me wants to go back in time just to tell my younger self to breathe it all in and understand how limited and quickly it'd all be over as if somehow that help me hold on to it. The other half of me is glad that I can’t. I’m glad that somehow that careless joy was never taken away.

I wish I could be in Paris again stepping out of that car in the pouring rain while the Four Seasons Valet held one of their black umbrellas out to help me in. Feeling special, safe, valued. Feeling captivated and intrigued. Feeling like a prize woman, stepping into my own fairy tale for the first time. Elegant, unique, and beautiful. Young at heart for the first time in almost 2 years. I wish I could feel me falling in love again. I wish I could go back to shell of a woman I was 3 years ago broken and betrayed by love and tell her to let go and hold on to her future. That it’d get beautiful again. That she’d feel whole and alive again. I want to relieve that moment of utter excitement that made me want to squeal when I saw my mother as I told her about the joy I felt even if I knew that feeling of was just towards an idea of love that wasn’t created to last.

I wish I was in that airport again, at the beginning of the journey. Stepping into the long awaited moment that I knew would change me profoundly with my suitcase in hand and my mother by my side. That moment I had hoped would come for years and years, the moment I knew would soon be over, the moment I was overwhelmingly grateful to be living in. Life is like a waterslide: you’re thrown into it, sometimes in darkness sometimes in light - falling so fast you can never catch it. You never have a say in the matter, you never have the power to slow it down. Every moment is ours and nothing is ours all at the same time. Every joy taunts our soul with its limits. Every moment escapes before we can touch it. I wish I was 5 years old again. Innocent and doe eyed - unaware of reality and yet somehow more aware of the purpose of it all.