Holy Ground

A whole summer of waiting and I'm back at WKU now.

The sun feels warm and fresh on my skin, so I sit outside to take it all in...

casting vision for the next year and being grateful for three more.

I feel like I should write something

so I search for inspiration in the painted sunset and in my friends' kind words

and in the unsettling adventure of change—

but where I really find it is

at the corner of everything I am and everything I ought to be.

My words get lost in the noise of the world,

but I feel like standing up with my bottle of cold kombucha

and throwing out a toast anyway.

A toast to being back in the familiar rhythms of Bowling Green;

a toast to friendships you don't have to overthink,

a toast to tiny, extraordinary moments that are worth more than gold,

to the beginning of a new era, to having the time of our lives, and to finding glory everywhere.

I've come to the conclusion: this growing-up thing is a myth.

I clink my glass against the sidewalk and smile to myself and stand up to leave.

Nothing will be the same in a year, or two,

and I hold this with such deep reverence that I feel like I am standing on holy ground.

Sometimes I get overwhelmed by holding all these emotions at once,

but in a good way, in a way that reminds me I am deeply human.

I guess I wrote all this to say that

I am back in the best place with the best people and

life feels so full right now that I don't know if anything else can fit into it.

And I'm hoping and praying that everything will always feel this beautiful and right.