This is Your Life (Are You Who You Wanna Be?)

Today I went to the Swamp near my house (no, for real) with January. We walked the docks to get to the tower, and at the top I divulged the Top Secret secrets of the latest Harry Potter at January's insistence. At one point, I stopped talking about the muggles and wizards and looked out on the miles of marsh, stretching into a horizon of clouds and sunny day. The wind picked up a tiny bit; I remained silent for just a second more to capture the moment. That moment and all the other contented moments that are like it are, unfortunately, so rare.

Earlier that day I had nearly ransacked my little room searching for something to wear to church. I wound up with a pair of pants whose top button had popped off and a shirt that, two years ago, was horrendously huge on me. And no, it wasn't that big on me this morning. For the 80,000th time in the past month I noticed my ballooning midsection, and paused a moment. I pulled at my stomach, I pinched parts in the mirror, and I remained horrified at the sight and the feeling. I remained silent for just a second more because, unlike those above, these moments come much more often and leave a much deeper mark.

Sometimes when you stop and take stock of your life, when you notice where you're standing figuratively/literally/emotionally/psychologically in that very moment, you can't think of anywhere better. Sometimes the wind hits you just right or the sun is shining, or you're happy with a friend, and sometimes it's just the opposite; the words can't come to express your shame or your sadness, and the nastiest voices in the world are all in the room with you, alone.