That's what I feel.
I keep forgetting how good writing makes me feel. Writing is my connection to myself and also to Jesse, among other things.
Maya is five now. Her face has you in it. Her personality has you in it.
Isis...Kyler...is 14 and soon to be 15. Smart and beautiful.
We have all moved forward, in our own way. Here we are.
Here I am.
I rode the wave and here I am.
Still riding that wave. But, it is a tad bit calmer. Persuadable.
I used to be angry at the world around me for moving forward while I mourned you. I kicked and screamed . I didn't understand it.
Now I welcome it. It is like the smell of rain in the backyard after a night of California rains. I wake up and smell it, mingling with the smell of sage.
I have the urge to dig my fingers into that mud.
I realize that I will always have stories for you, Jess. The context might have changed, but there are always stories. You knew my love for stories. We always had stories for each other.
The stories were always there.
So...here's to more stories.