Self

I will be myself. 

I will be wife, sister, daughter, friend.

I will mother.  And weep.  And cheer.  And worry.  And be proud.  And hold fast.  And let go.  

I will release of parts of myself to save me when I’m drowning or make a space for something new.

I will carry my own baggage until the day comes when I should unpack it and put it all away.

I will attempt madly to give the best parts of myself.

I will count the fruits of my labors and know that sometimes they come out of pain and leave scars.  Sometimes they come only after the plow has carved a wide space in the land.

I will move forward without looking back. 

I will never forget what is behind me.  Who is behind me.

I will be grateful for you.  Because without you, I wouldn’t be me.   

I will package myself.  Decorate and dress up this body to put you on with all I’ve put on.

I will strip it all away and be myself.  

I will not whisper my story.  I will sing it.  I will write it.  I will capture it in every instant.  

I will wear my story on my sleeve and scream it at the top of my voice. 

Be ready.

It’s a good story.