Even though I'm on an indefinite hiatus from this blog, I thought this year, of all years, I had to do an end of year post.
Since my white, three-holed Keds, braids and striped cotton dresses I've carried two dreams with me always.
This year one came true.
and grow...
and grow...
and grow for the rest of my life.
Sure, the same sort of things happened this year that have happened in my previous end of year posts: We travelled (kind of), had visitors, Such Music grew and gained listeners and I have come SO DAMN CLOSE to finishing the final tweaks on this draft that I can taste the submission process (and it tastes like 2015!!).
But truly, this was a year that announced itself like the earthquake that rocked our apartment 15 hours before I gave birth (while in labour!).
It was a year that will forever be a marker of my life.
Since my white, three-holed Keds, braids and striped cotton dresses I've carried two dreams with me always.
This year one came true.
Oh for this was the year my body lived and breathed and gave and gave and gave anew.
This was a year I discovered that the last, tiny tip of strength within you is really a mountain about to burst through.
This is the year I've been given the honour to watch grow...
and grow...
and grow...
and grow for the rest of my life.
This was the year I saw another side of the great love inside someone get bigger and continue to become more and more and more.
People told me I wouldn't be prepared for the sleep deprivation, for the utter giving up of your life in trade for becoming carer of another's. People warned me I could loose myself. But in truth, Easton opened me — and so much more of myself climbed out.
None of this means I haven't been brought to my knees over and over and over this year. The truth is motherhood is nothing if not humbling and it is nothing if not devotion, if not love. And oh was this a year of love, of greatness. This year and all...