I put so much hope into the passing of that final minute. 

The new year lies ahead like a layer of fresh snow, free of footprints but full of pure possibility.  A blank canvas.

In the ‘before’ I was a cold, hard realist.  Now, in the settling dust, I am a dreamer.  My dreams are blurry and exotic.  They are large and daring and that is how I need them to be. It is what makes the suffering worth bearing.

Just let me talk.  Just let me hope.  Just let me dream. 

 Because, all I really fear is standing still…

   and being alright with it.

The reality is that I don’t need to taste curry in India this year, or trek through Mongolia or wander the streets of Paris. 

More than likely my book will stay tucked inside my head. 

The possibility of it is enough for now...because one day…

Just maybe.

Just let me talk.  Just let me hope.  Just let me dream.

and

while I am waiting, I know that life will be filled with hundreds of little miracles—dreams I never dreamt, un-exotic, unexpected little moments of wonder getting me through until the passing of that final minute… marking the end to another year.

Thankful to love and be loved,  thankful to be alive, thankful to dream.

It is snowing.  It is still and it is beautiful.

I have not written here for a very long time and I miss you.  Much has happened since our paths last crossed.  I have moved forward and I have slipped backward.  I have felt incredible strength of will and I have teetered on the brink—sometimes all in the same day.  In many ways, I have come full circle.

I forge ahead, yet there is always in the back of my mind, a hesitancy, as if I am walking across a thin layer of ice—never really trusting that it will not crack under my feet.  I am not the person I was before and it has taken some getting used to—especially for the people who love me. I am random and restless.  I fear standing still and I am trying to restore my belief in happy endings.

I am back in Goshen, living on Third Street in a cottage that reminds me of a place in a Jane Austen story.  I live with Megan and CoCo right across the street from the house that held for me such joy and such anguish.  I could not live there again but that doesn't mean that I look at it with a sense of despair.  I view this house with fondness.  It is a monument to so many things.

I don’t linger too long on what occurred inside the room above the alley.  When I pass, I am not haunted by the memory of what went on there.  Mainly I hear echoes of laughter floating from the windows.  It is like a delicate thread that mends my heart one tiny stitch at a time.

I had to come back here—to face my demons.  It is the epicenter of everything that has defined me and I realized that I could not truly move forward until I went back. 

I am happy here, starting yet another chapter in my life.  I hope my life will have many chapters each more interesting than the next.

One day, I challenged God to a duel and as usual, He showed up with the better weapons and a deadly aim. I told him that if he opened the doors, I would walk through them.  The result was quick and stunning.  I feel like Alice in Wonderland--growing, shrinking, joyful, curious, confused, frustrated and most of all intrigued—trying to make sense of a world that often makes no sense at all.  God, I love an adventure.  If I sat still I think I would die.