(I wrote this not quite a year ago as we were prepping for our move to Texas, and just found the draft. It feels appropriate to post it here when my anxiety flares and lately the world feels more terrifying and less beautiful)
(June, 2018).
Hello world.
I watched a room full of graduates cross a stage Saturday night. Their stories, like their faces, diverse, staggering, and inspiring in the way that makes you want to charge out the door and save the world. Or at least go back to school. A Kosovar refugee with three degrees. A fierce advocate for military wives and widows. A Ukrainian political activist determined to uncover corruption in the financial tanglings of the Ukrainian political process. And my friend, an Iraqi immigrant getting her second bachelor’s degree amid working part-time, raising three children, and learning in a second language.
Hello world.
8 Texas teenagers and two teachers just died at the hands of an angry man-boy rebuffed by a girl. 29 children murdered with a gun at school in 2018. More children have died in 2018 than soldiers in combat. My neighbor’s daughter won’t leave her school during a routine fire alarm because she’s afraid she’ll die if she does. My children get on the bus and sometimes I wonder if they will get off in the afternoon.
Hello world.
Saturday, before the graduation, I watched through my tears as an African American Bishop preached redemptive love to the royal family, and to the world. An African American man stood in Windsor Castle and preached the resilience of faith in the enslaved population of the American south during the wedding of Prince Harry to, and I quote, “a biracial, whip-smart, human rights activist, feminist, ultra stylish, strong, opinionated, gracious, classy American woman.”
Hello world.
My daughter’s friend told her a lie about a boy. She said he liked her. He doesn’t. Teendom is coming in all it’s hormonal, heart-aching glory and we sat in my minivan and ate gummy worms while we talked about forgiveness and making good choices. She’s 10 going on 25 – a witty, astounding, creative, intelligent, intuitive and empathetic human. She’s also a mess because we are moving again and she will say goodbye, again, to the ones she loves the most. It’s her 5th in 10 years.
Hello world.
I birthed a freelance writing career just shy of my 38th year, and only a solid four years after I good and well called myself a writer. And only 20 odd years after I actually started writing. I’ve learned new technology, new strategy, and new worlds of nonprofit and grant writing. I fight imposter syndrome everyday and still I write. For myself, for you. For the woman who’s been struggling with postpartum syndrome for far to long and just might get help because she’s recently discovered she’s not alone. I write because it’s my dream, it’s my art, it’s my worship.
Hello world.
Every glorious, terrifying minute on this sunbaked rock is a gift.
What’s rocking your world lately?
M.