I bought a piece of art. It’s the work of a talented friend. The minute I saw it, it spoke to me.
I recently turned 35 years old. Birthdays have a way of reminding us of the journey. A milestone with a purpose.
You are becoming.
The journey is not about arriving. There is no arrival. Instead, there’s a thread that binds one day to another.
I am becoming.
I’m always becoming. Daily. Everything – the little and big – is a piece of my story, of my self.
This abstract, colorful and messy image has become more appealing to me. A contrast to the sharp, planned and precise picture I fought for in the past. I’m leaning into the beauty and honesty of this person.
My path, my story, my hope is all present. I’m full of strokes, many of them shoot in different directions. Some even labeled: “mistake”, “success”, “blessing”, “trauma”. But all connect and give shape to this person. This self.
A lover. A laugher. A warrior. A mother. A partner. A woman.
A beautiful life.
To Sarah, the artist. My friend. Your work spoke to me, gave me confidence and delight in my own life. What a gift. Thank you.