Lining the pages were words of what might be someday. Written in handwriting so distinctly mine. I had written tea, Montana, Natives, kids, mom? Simply written below in the same scrawled handwriting was confusion, unsure, uncertain, overwhelmed.
Those pages have been my life the past months. Written this summer, words strong and true. In time I realized that in the sprawling words of my confusion I could be all. I could drink tea, live in Montana, live life among the Native people, have kids, and be a mom. I can be all that those words represent.
I can.
Of course you can!
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