The remaining day stretches in front of me.
Games? Food? Movies? PJs? Coffee? That last Christmas 5th Avenue? It's been waiting.
I'm in a tough place. Been there for awhile. A long while. I can't seem to figure it out. I just get up everyday and do my best. But. Saturday. Saturday is not for dwelling, but dreaming.
The sun is thinking about sharing a ray or two with me. I close my eyes. And dream.
About the one time I went snorkeling in Malaysia. It was new and intimidating and exciting; breathtaking, yet over quickly. It was overcast, then sunny, then frigid and rainy. The, ahem, accommodations were less than ideal, but the shower was mostly warm and I was never so grateful for hot-ish water and a blanket or two to block the mosquitoes. It was like the fourth time in my life my face erupted (appeared to, anyway,) with chicken pox. Bless Ryan for taking the bed above the massive hole in the floor, where the sidewalk light beckoned our tiny, ruthless enemy straight up into our room. He was tore up.
I have to constantly remind myself to take risks. Be brave, Angela, be brave. Chicken pox is temporary.
I would not naturally classify myself as a brave individual. I wish I could because I think bravery is such a fine quality. I admire those who are not ruled by fear, those who embrace uncertainty so easily.
When I am old. Well. Older than I am now. I am certain the parts of my life I will be able to say that I liked best, were the parts when I was brave. When I was a single mother. When I tried new foods. (Like prawn soup - are you kidding me?!) When I traveled to new places. When I forgave others. When I decided to be a friend, instead of waiting for one. (I can't tell you the numerous blessings that have come to me by this route.) When I have performed or given speeches.
And.
When I chose to write.
When I chose, months ago, to pursue a passion, to embrace what I love most of all.
It's a brave thing to be vulnerable. It displays a strength most often unrecognized. To write, to blog, is to allow others that you might not even know personally to enter your world. Be a part of your life. To see through your eyes. Sometimes I hit, "publish" and cringe, knowing that others will criticize, whether they comment or not.
Be brave, Angela, be brave. Chicken pox is temporary.
When you ask me what I liked best about this life...
Moments of bravery. Because on the wings of bravery, you fly...
Pen, paper, and all.
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