It's been quite a strange week, and that's all I'll say about that, as vague as it may be. I try to be intentional about realizing just how lucky I am--how good my life already is--but there are times when it's hard. This year has had its fair share of hurdles already, and I just hope that I'll soon start hitting my stride. Until then, I'll be getting as much fresh air as possible and reading deep into the infinite wisdom of dear E.E. Cummings.

[Tulips in Charlottesville, March 2012]

Spring is like a perhaps hand

E.E. Cummings

Spring is like a perhaps hand

(which comes carefully

out of Nowhere) arranging

a window, into which people look (while

people stare

arranging and changing placing

carefully there a strange

thing and a known thing here) and

changing everything carefully

spring is like a perhaps

Hand in a window

(carefully to

and fro moving New and 

Old things, while 

people stare carefully

moving a perhaps

fraction of flower here placing

an inch of air there) and

without breaking anything.

--

Tonight I'm having dinner with some wonderful girlfriends of mine, and tomorrow I'm off to DC for the day to shower Melissa with love as she fast approaches her upcoming wedding! And in just one week, I'll be in Minneapolis hanging out with Rob. The bright side, people. We've got to stay on it.

My sweet friend Emily got married this weekend in Richmond, and I felt overwhelmed with gratitude that she invited me and Rob to be there to see it. Emily and I were both English majors at Longwood, and didn't really get to know one another until after I graduated and she was a senior. We had already been Facebook friends, but really only connected later through blogging. We started meeting for coffee whenever I was in town, and we'd talk and laugh and get teary-eyed as the hours passed and our lattes got cold and we got really serious about life and marriage and God and Harry Potter and politics.

And then one morning, I was in Farmville for the weekend, getting up early to see her present her senior seminar paper on The Bell Jar, and as she spoke with passion and excitement and answered questions about her topic in front of the room, I realized that she and I were actually real friends, and again I felt overwhelmed. How sweet it is to find yourself in such a random, special friendship.

I started this weekend early, on Friday morning, and I drove to Longwood to visit my brother and talk to a handful of my favorite professors from undergrad. I didn't realize it until I was driving away from campus just how perfect it was for me to stop by Longwood on my way to Richmond to see Emily. Farmville, Virginia is where so many good things begin--my education, my relationship with Rob, my friendship with Emily, and her relationship with her now husband, Robbie (another Economics-studying Robert, just by the way).

Emily and Robbie got married on Saturday and I don't know if I've ever seen any two people happier.

How sweet it is to see true love like that.

I dropped my Rob off at the airport on Sunday afternoon and drove home through the rain. It was warm and grey outside, and when the rain stopped the sun came out, and I rolled down the windows of my car. I've been having a really rough time lately. I've been sad and overwhelmed and negative a lot of the time. But seeing Emily this weekend reminded me that I can be positively intentional about a lot of my life. So as I drove, in the middle of my musings about spring; and my fond memories of college; and the thought of our bright, prosperous futures with the people we love the most; I took a deep breath from the cool, wet air outside and smiled.

How sweet it is.

Sometimes, I'll open a book when I feel lost. I always think that maybe whatever page I come to will give me something deep and insightful which will be exactly what I need to read at that moment. That doesn't really happen, though, because life is not always like a movie, and because you can't just sit around and wait for things to fall into your lap, and also because that's what the the Table of Contents is for.

So, as I skimmed the titles included in one of my favorite anthologies, I came across a piece by William Hazlitt called On Going a Journey*,and the title stood out to me because, while I may not always know the way, I do recently feel like I'm on some sort of journey.

"The soul of a journey is liberty, perfect liberty, to think, feel, do, just as one pleases. We go a journey chiefly to be free of all impediments and of all inconveniences; to leave ourselves behind... It is because I want a little breathing-space to muse on indifferent matters, where Contemplation

'May plume her feathers and let grow her wings,

That in the various bustle of resort

Were all too ruffled, and sometimes impair'd,'

that I absent myself from the town for a while, without feeling at a loss the moment I am left by myself."

I feel as though I've been flailing lately. I'm sometimes neither fully here nor there, I am often sad, and I'm having so much trouble seeing the whole picture without getting worked up about the larger details.

But to look at this time of uncertainty, this journey--where my beloved dog grows old, and Rob and I manage to grow closer even though we are further away from each other than ever--as liberty, perfect liberty, and to use it as an opportunity to make my life exactly what I want it to be? That's something I hadn't yet thought of, and it's powerful.

"Give me the clear blue sky over my head, and the green turf beneath my feet, and a winding road before me, and a three hours' march to dinner--and then to thinking!"

*On Going a Journey and a whole lot of other awesome essays can be found in Phillip Lopate's The Art of the Personal Essay, which is a huge collection that I am glad to own.