There are nights… where the only thing that will help make sense of anything, is a glass of wine. Tonight is one of those nights; only I do not have wine.
When I lived in Oregon, I always had a bottle of wine on hand (if not many) and I always had a friend who wanted to drink a bottle wine (if not many) with me. Tonight is one of those nights where I am missing that deep, dark, glass of wine that is only to be sipped while lying on the floor, reading Cosmo and telling stories of adventures from the past.
I miss the reassurance of certainty, though it is arguable if that has ever existed. I miss the comfort of love- the kind that knows me deeply and loves me anyways. I miss the rain and how it quiets my soul. I miss driving in Forest Park with my windows down, blasting my music as I wound my way around every bend I knew by heart- wind flying through my hair, sun peaking through the trees. I miss the smell of spring and the cherry blossoms along the waterfront- standing still while people jog and ride their bikes past me.
When I lived in Oregon, I always had a bottle of wine on hand (if not many) and I always had a friend who wanted to drink a bottle wine (if not many) with me. Tonight is one of those nights where I am missing that deep, dark, glass of wine that is only to be sipped while lying on the floor, reading Cosmo and telling stories of adventures from the past.
I miss the reassurance of certainty, though it is arguable if that has ever existed. I miss the comfort of love- the kind that knows me deeply and loves me anyways. I miss the rain and how it quiets my soul. I miss driving in Forest Park with my windows down, blasting my music as I wound my way around every bend I knew by heart- wind flying through my hair, sun peaking through the trees. I miss the smell of spring and the cherry blossoms along the waterfront- standing still while people jog and ride their bikes past me.
And I deeply believe it is healthy to miss all of those things, but some times, maybe it is necessary to form a new identity. But what comprises one’s identity? Appearance? The ability to relate to humanity? Or maybe it’s the unique characteristics of one’s soul? And in that case, can you change your identity?
Less we become too philosophical, I feel as though I am on a path that is destine to, in the very least, tweak my identity.
Change the way I view myself and the world that surrounds me…
Change the way I accept love…
And maybe even change the way I identify being loved.
So even though tonight is just one of those night… where I would give up anything just to sip on a $6.95 + tax bottle of Columbia Crest Cab-Merlot, I will chose to instead ponder how my identity has already changed and what kinds of changes I can make in the future to reveal a more authentic identity to the world!
1 comment:
Jyndia, I love your words, your eloquence. I believe that our identities are ever transforming and molding as we experience, change, grow and live. No new identities, just expanding identities.
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