I was hiking. I wasn't lost yet.
The sun was shining brilliantly and there was a magnificent breeze.
I was alone (with my dogs) as I often am.
There was no music, no conversation. Just me, holding my water bottle, walking, thinking.
I was thinking about my new year. You know, I turned 29 on the second and have spent the past 10 days celebrating with family and friends and feeling splendidly loved and spoiled by the richness of the relationships in my life.
It's my last year in my 20s and I'm not sad or regretful or melancholic over that notion. I'm delightfully hopeful and expectant about the adventures Year 29 will deliver.
What will I get myself into?
What will I lose?
What will I gain?
Where will I be?
What will I learn?
What will I do for the first time?
Will I hate it? Love it? Repeat it?
What mistakes will I make? Apologies will I say? Condolences give?
How will I improve? What will I improve?
What will get stronger? Weaker?
What will I accomplish? Relinguish?
I smiled out loud in anticipation. The sun, the breeze, the exploring adventure, the dogs...my {crazy beautiful} life.
Hopeful expectancy.
Or sometimes impatience.
I LOVE THE JOURNEY.
But where are we going?
I LOVE THE MOMENTS.
But what will they create when added together?
I LOVE TODAY.
And tomorrow?
Then somewhere in all the hopeful expectancy and on the plains of some state park in the middle of ranchland, and while I was smiling...
And you're single.
The trailing thought made me smile wider, because I realized this was the first time I'd thought that in the first week of my 29th year, and because the anticipation deepened.
What will happen next?
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