Lusting After Pretty Things

I read SEVERAL fashion blogs. There are at least seven I check every day (usually several times despite them only posting once) and probably a dozen I look at less routinely. I love the pictures. Whether they are displaying their new outfit, or a new DIY, or a room that has been redecorated, or a meal that they put together that may as well have been on Martha Stewart's website. I love that the pictures they post are so pretty.

There are a few, well one in particular, that post about things that aren't as pretty. She talks about heartache and mistakes and finding yourself in your mid-twenties in a way that is so beautifully sad, but also inspiring.

And there are times when I come back to a blog I haven't looked at in a few months and I find that there is a different boy sharing the frames of the photograph and I go back month by month to find that the blogger and her beau have divorced and it isn't pretty, but in all the pictures before and after she is smiling. And maybe it isn't pretty to think about people separating, but I think maybe there is some beauty in the journey and in the coming upon something new and cherishing the thing in the past.

Having moved across the country I though it would be different. I thought it would bring me closer to friends and family and it has, but not close enough. I spend the majority of my time alone. I am fine with that- familiar with it actually. I can't help, though, lusting after the lives in these blogs that are only the best shot of the best part of their day. I miss having people to share my meals with and to go to Target with and to watch tv or a movie with. And I miss it most of all, because I don't know when I will have it again.

One Year

A little over a year ago I pursued something that was uncertain. Something that was new- in many ways. 

It changed my entire life. It was, as my mother said, "crossing a bridge that could never be uncrossed". There was no other path that I could imagine.

It was not as easy as the word falling might imply. There were many unintended hurts that came just like a fall. Bruises that are still fading.

Every single day, though, it is not the pains of minor characters that I think of.

It is the joy. The happiness of loving someone who has literally made me so much better than I ever was.

I have spent the last year discovering what it means to truly love someone. Even though 1,901 miles currently seperate us there is no other place I would call home like her heart.

I love you, Meredith.

A Beginning

It has been several months since I ended my last blog. There was finishing graduate school and a job search that seemed more imperative and there was a need to take a break from talking about things in such a public forum.

A lot has changed since that blog. I have moved back across the country and am now residing in Ohio. I live in a precious village with lots of hills and trees and two coffee shops.

It has been interesting adjusting to life on my own again. That feeling of coming home to an empty apartment and having friends that are once again further away than I would like. It has been good, though, to find perspective and to know that I can make it on my own and to know that in very few ways am I actually alone.