Confessions

I confess, I am at the end of a decade. In just a short while, I will be thirty. The idea of age is abstract and surreal. It's not that we feel any different. Our responsibilities and preferences certainly change. Our understanding of life grows. We think we might know what is important, though we still lose focus in the moment. My first baby is nearly ten and "past the age of believing." I've been crying over that. Seth reminded me that's what we are here for. I'm almost 30, but it is still hard for me to want to do new things, call new people (or old friends sometimes), or not be feel nervous branching out in other ways. I think I know myself better for the experience of the past ten years though. I like lilies, dahlias, and roses. I love growing plants, when I can. I can't help but experiment on everything I put my hand to. I finished some baby blankets yesterday. I followed a pattern too (if the one in my head counts). I love books. I, mistakenly, think no pain no gain. I love to follow things that terrify me --like politics and world events--does that make me a thrill seeker? Mostly, I love people and growing them.