2023

This year I want to write, draw, sing, and move as often and as freely as I did when I was a child. 

I want to dance and run and move my body, not because I want it to change shape or because I already paid for a gym membership, but because it is a privilege and it feels so good to move. It makes me remember how grateful I am to be on this earth right here, right now. 

How lucky am I to be able to stretch, dance, laugh, breathe, and feel the love from the people around me? To hug and kiss and cuddle and smile. 

It’s also a privilege to feel hurt and cry and scream into a pillow and apologize for reacting too quickly.

I want to do what little me would’ve done when she felt her feelings. 

She would’ve listened to music that made her heart swell even when it made her sob, she’d journal for hours (and pray no one would read it), she’d make story books out of napkins and tape, she’d paint and sketch and color without worrying how it would turn out. She’d dance and perform constantly, singing at the top of her lungs, and she’d dream about the grownup she would become. 

She was dreaming about me. 

And I owe it to her to remember how cool it is to be here living the life she dreamed of. 

My goal for this year is to write, draw, sing, and move to honor her.