And we're off again...

I love you and you know it.

And that idea right there, is so swell-like it's swellalicious or some other made up rambling word that is delicious on the tongue, even when spoken silently.

See, no one has ever had me tell them I love them in quite this way.  Not a beg but a plea, wholehearted, honest and straight up.  I have said it in person and on the phone and I want to keep telling you.  Because that is what love is, right?

The idea that one other person in the world can make you happier, sadder, angrier than anyone else and yet you want to shout it from the rooftops/sing it to the stars/whisper it over porch steps?

If it's not that, I don't know what is but I am loving to learn it.

33 Reasons I am Angry

Some more valid than others, most not to be shared.  Some fixable but maybe not changeable. 

Is it impressed upon anyone else that there is one for each year of our Lord's life. 

Alas, I am a sinner who still sins.  A sinner who needed a Lord, still needs...

and just like that...suddenly i am okay for nearly three days.

i hit a low low low low (i hope you just sang that as you read it, because i did) and then i started working back up the mountain---to the sea.

i have this mental image of carrying this man-sized parcel, wrapped in canvas to the shore and pulling/shoving/pressing it to the lapping waves.  the parcel is not dead but it is weighty.  and the press into the sea is not the end of anything, necessarily.  it is just a removal-far flung-from myself.  it has been too much to hold, too much to carry, the death of a beautiful dream...a dream i am not giving up on but one i am just letting the sea carry as long as it will.  because that's the funny thing about the sea; my parcel could be washed far out to land in the lap of another on a far off beach.  or one day, in the right time, it could wash up at my knees as they are being lapped by the saline or old tears.  and by then, the parcel would be smooth - worn by time, the sea floor, and white waves.  smooth and mine.