Today marks my half birthday. I don’t think I’ve ever even noticed this day in the past, but lately time feels more tangible than before.

We have moments—periods, eras—in life that shape us more than others. If my moments were in a photo album, you’d see glossy images of a grinning, naive high schooler sitting at a table in southern France and snapshots of a college freshman laughing on her dorm room floor. You’d probably see a photo in a hospital in Vietnam and a hazy picture on a hill in a sunny Georgia cemetery.

These last six months would make it into the album. In fact, they might take up a page or two. They’ve been exhausting and exhilarating. I’ve learned a little. And lived a lot. There were days that were really, really hard. And there were days that were really, really great.

Once, on a night in late March, when it was so cold my tears felt comforting in their warmth on my skin, I said aloud that I regretted the choices that had led me to that point. I wanted to be home. I wanted to have never been sick. I wanted not to feel so afraid of the future.

This may seem trivial, but I’m not one who regrets. Ever. And as the words tumbled from my mouth and into the phone and the world I wanted to grab and hide them before anyone noticed. But they were met with such intense compassion and support that it made me wonder how in three decades of life I’d never realized the depth of love we humans have for each other.

There’s something about the faint appearance of scars that comfort me. A thin white line on an otherwise tan arm. A kneecap worn smooth. They tell stories of living and healing. I imagine that if we don’t have a few scars on the inside then we’ve missed some of that living. Scars don’t come from following the rules.

Six months into this year, I’m still tender. I’m still healing. I’m still learning what recent snapshots will make the album and what will simply be memories. But as I mark this arbitrary day on the calendar, the thing I feel most about the last half-year is grateful—for the overwhelming brilliance of life’s opportunities and for our staggering capacity for enduring love.

  1. mysocalledttclife said: Oh no. I really had no idea how sad you were during this time :(. I’m sorry. Hang in there. In a year you’ll look back and be grateful for all you went through. It helps you to appreciate what you have :).
  2. jumpingfeetfirst said: Lovely.
  3. inmyopinion posted this
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