twenty-fourteen // starbursts and supernovas
in the year twenty-fourteen, i wore matching socks twice, fake-prayed in a church in a small mexican village and tried to ride a 400 pound sea turtle in hawaiian waters; learned how to cook sausage on the grill and massaged over 100 bowls of kale salad; wore coyote teeth in my ears and crystals around my neck; hung up 53 tissue-paper pompoms from my ceiling and built a shrine with sand dollars and beach glass; put a piece of cinnamon gum on a wall in seattle and waved a glow stick around in the dark; considered becoming a modern dancer, considered riding a unicorn, considered moving to iceland; bought oil paintings at goodwill, caught frogs on sauvies island; started fires that burned strong; roller-skated at the rink and almost fell; roller-skated at the rink and almost didn’t fall; shot brides on bridges; shot brides on beaches; shot brides in old houses; read the end of a book first; read the end of a book last; drank 489 cups of black tea and slept for 2,557 hours and brushed my hair 25 times; drove through the streets in my 1997 toyota avalon and called it a luxury vehicle because it had leather seats; roasted beets, stirred oatmeal, frosted cakes; wrote poems, made shadow puppets and organized my closet by color; did not learn how to do the splits and did not get arrested; hiked to the rim of a volcano and floated on a giant pretzel in a pool in palm springs; swam in the pacific, swam in a river, swam in lake pend orielle; rode in a limo and hot tubbed in the rain; painted my nails gold; painted my nails black; painted my nails blue; had dreams about ebola, dreams about outer space, dreams about love; wrote down mary oliver quotes and read ernest hemmingway; got bruises that turned purple; got bruises that healed; rode my mixty at night without a light, rode a skateboard, rode in a convertible around the city of angels; pretended to be a pirate; pretended to be russian; kissed my thirty-five year-old-self goodbye; cried when sawyer got his hair chopped; cried when sawyer started kindergarten; found wings on a wall, found 67 pennies for luck, found my magic; did not have a constellation tattooed on my side, did not have a supernova tattooed on my back; had my fortune read by zoltar, watched fireworks from a dock and put a fake christmas tree on my front porch; made a 9-layer rainbow cake, made new friends in coffeeshops, made my own luck; drove alone through the berkshires; ate breakfast alone in small town diners; won games of shuffleboard and left things behind; felt starbursts in my brain, watched documentaries about black holes, watched 3 parades; had dance parties in the kitchen with my kids, dance parties in hotel rooms with friends and dance parties in my dining room with strangers; built lego spaceships and fishtail-braided indys hair; watched thelma & louise 10 times; felt alive, felt the cold, felt my heartbeat; shot weddings in minnesota and bend; shot weddings in massachusetts and hawaii; shot weddings in cle elum and mexico; danced my first tango and popped 7 bottles of champagne; rode the night train to idaho and rode the max train to powells; had my car stolen from in front of my house on a tuesday morning in december; did not polar bear swim, did not get my bellybutton pierced, did not buy birkenstocks; did not go to asia, did not get burned by fire, did not get into any fist fights; learned the true meaning of ampersand; counted birds in the sky; connected with my koala bear spirit guide and had premonitions of tsunamis and block parties; measured my kids height against the wall and watched the winter stars from a snow-covered field; ate a bagel in the minneapolis airport, dropped my girl off at overnight camp in california; grew my own crystals and tried to learn the sia dance to chandelier; had my identity stolen; typed the laugh/cry emoji 789 times; drove a 1987 benz for two weeks and drank drops of flower essences; followed a double rainbow down a long country road; walked into the eye of a storm on a oregon beach; flew to ashland, flew to california, flew to the moon; took an uber in boston and did cowboy hiphop on the streets with my sister; walked through the cali mud and wore black and gold to a dance party in the forest; took pictures in photo booths and sang fleetwood mac in my car; painted my living room grey, tricked my way onto a private party bus and wore my hair down; listened to the rain on the roof, watched the pink sky at dawn; walked through the desert and counted cactus; listened to creedence clearwater and the national; listened to lana del rey and al green; two stepped with a bearded man and slid out onto a frozen lake; clicked my shutter so many times that my camera broke; cannonballed off docks into lakes; skied on powder; skied under the sun; skied pretty slow; planted succulents into mason jars and bought black sharpie pens; flew and fell and listened and wandered and sank and swam and lifted and lowered and waited and fought and failed and danced and jumped and laughed and ran and worked and stayed and celebrated and tried and learned and loved. here is to letting go and not looking back; to dwelling in possibility…always. <<stay gold. stay true>> happy fifteen.