Putting words on paper gives me purpose, makes me feel real in a way. Writing helps me sort through things I think and feel or think I feel. Finding just the right words to speak with a voice that is inside of me even if you never hear it escape my mouth is peace for me.
Music and songs and how they manage to say what they say amaze me. They delight me. Songs can often become for me a better answer than my own words.
This year in our home, it seems we have theme songs. It's a comfort for all of us. Life is hard for everyone for a zillion different reasons. If it was fair and just and all that, then at least in our home, it would be easier for some, but it's not.
There are some of you in my circle that don't know you're mine, for lack of a better word to express it. You're a big deal to me, so much more than you could possibly know, even from my overly abundant words telling you so.
Over the course of years, I am with you, watching and living beside you, the ebbs and flows of good and hard and aching. Even in silences or distances, you have not left my heart. Even when you can't trust that I believe I am doing something good or right that makes no sense to you.
Some of you are almost never written about here, for this is too public and you, my dear sweet one, too fragile for the whoosh and glare of this world. For you, and you know who you are, this is for you. More mere words and yet from me I hope they mean something. I hope you know when I hand out words from my heart it's a little like I'm giving you some of my blood or air or most precious moments in time.
This is one of our theme songs, and today, now, in your life, this fits.
This family here, we do sometimes scream and shout. This hot mess of people that matter to me do get headstrong and heart-wounded and go off on a yell now and again. Passion will do that to you. Being alive and living and risking for love will do that to a person. To my people. Scream and shout aside, you get the point, I know you do.
And this one. I've put it here before because it is that big of a deal here in my house. You think you're lost and alone, drifting without someone, anyone, caught in transition. Waiting for decisions and signs and some secure answer when it seems instead that life, love is a funny mirage of sorts. Real and yet unreal all at once.
Home might really be a place in your heart filled with your people, not a place on a map or a building in your hometown.
And you, you are my people.
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