I am gentle. Gentle like a summer breeze on a hot day. Warm sunshine dancing on tanned skin, sand between my toes. Grass tickling the bottoms of my feet. If I am a season then I am summertime.
I am beautiful. Beautiful like all the little moments in my life that mean the absolute most to me. Like sitting in the car with the windows down and the radio on. The perfect song blaring as I'm singing every word embarrassingly loud.
A blanket on the ground in the park, picnic basket, warm air, surrounded by people. To just sit in that moment and soak it in. Who I was then, where I was, in that very second. My dreams, my hopes, my future all set in front of me and I could go anywhere. The sounds of laughter, conversations, birds and traffic.
My favorite memories are the ones where I'm with my closest friends and we have nothing to worry about. The times in my life where I have just let everything go and given myself to that place. Road trips. Movie nights. Evening walks. An ugly pair of jean shorts and a t-shirt. Flip flops. Hair blowing in the wind.
I am exciting. Exciting like summer evenings with stormy weather. Thunder storms with bright lightning. Standing on the concrete sidewalk wrapped in the blanket watching nature dance in the night sky next to one of my best friends on the planet. The smell of warm asphalt just as it's started to rain.
I am sweet. Sweet like a soft kiss on my forehead accompanied by strong arms holding me close. A hand on the back of my head, fingers through my hair. An intimate moment, shared just between two people. Knowing that someone cares about me.
Moments where you are both happy and sad at the same time. Like when you are sitting in a chair in the Kibbie Dome surrounded by people you spent the last four years of your life with and you're about to say goodbye to it all. You just have to make it across the stage without tripping first.
That wonderful feeling of anticipation as you click off your electronic device and wait for the plane to take off down the runway. When you land in a new place and all you can think about is all the exploring you are about to do.
Holding a piece of charcoal in between your fingers, working on a new creation. The frustration when that line is just not quite right and you can't figure out why. Or perhaps when you are writing a story and that sentence just feels off for seemingly no apparent reason. So you erase, you rework the line and the sentence. It's agonizing and you want to give up, but you have to keep pushing because once you figure it out it's brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.
Campfire smoke. A fishing pole in your hand. Blue skies with white puffy clouds. Uncharted territory. An old haunt you've visited a thousand times. Ghost towns, old log cabins, and rusty cars. Puppy kisses. The smell of old books. The end of a good story. Waking up to a beautiful view. Falling asleep to a movie.
A new friend. The budding relationship, shared interests and fun stories. Or an old companion who understands you even better than you feel like you understand yourself sometimes. Someone who just clicks with you and getting along with them is so easy because whatever you're made of, they are too.
Life is all of these things and so very much more, and I often get caught up trying to be who I want that I don't realize I should to be happy with who I am. My life is amazing. It's not always what I want it to be or where I want it to be, but it's the only one I have and I wouldn't trade it for anything.