Being that I’m turning twenty four next week, my mind is racing a little when I think about all this year has been for me. So here goes something:
23.
The year of roots.
The year of sacrifice,
the year of depth instead of surface niceties.
The year I graduated university
The year of the pandemic
The year of the one-way ticket
The year I moved to London and worked my first “real job”
The year of “forever” friendships suddenly changing overnight.
The year of questioning
The year of holding accountable and being held accountable
The year of integrity, of learning this does not mean performing perfectly, but wrestling faithfully
The year of boundaries- even with family
The year of choosing my circle and not letting my circle choose me.
The year of standing up for what I want in relationships
The year of first dates, but also lasts
The year of flowers and nervous introductions
The year of trusting God, in a deep unearthing kind of way
The year of small and big dreams
The year of tiny sparks of magic
The year of big windows and flat 4
The year of “is 2 glasses of wine per week–(but mostly 1), too many?”
The year of the London dream (the real London this time)
23–the year of the everything, all at once–but also the nothing.
The year of “wow there really is still a pandemic going on?”
The year of choice and being chosen
The year of the resolute
The year of learning and unlearning
23.
The start of becoming.
