2013 >> on magic, disappointment and declarations.

When 2012 began to shut the curtains and lock her doors, I was already out in the cold waiting for the new year. 

Literally. I walked out of the front door at a friend's NYE party and waited for the clock to strike midnight in their front yard. 

2013 couldn't come fast enough.

I'm beginning to see the curtains of the year rustle around me. I hear clicks of locks and there's a dissonance inside. 

2014 brings lots of new. I'm ready for it.

But not before I grab 2013 by the collar and let her know how I'm not ready for her to go.

This was the year I found myself in a word so unlike me—risk. Always the good girl, always the one who avoided confrontation (ahem, INFP). This year brought plenty of bubble popping and skirt-raising. I started a business (what? me?), re-titled and revised and self-published Every Shattered Thing, landed an amazing agent, and found a community of women who take my breath away with their words. I spent time in the hills and by the ocean and each rejuvenated me in ways I never anticipated. 

I got a tattoo named Icarus in the shape of a feathered quill. 

But before all of this, the year looked promising. I found hope again in March after an incredible desolate winter. 

In June, you know the story. It shattered around me. Again.

But I learned how to pick up the shattered pieces for the second time and take that first step back into waiting. 

So much happened—so much good—that it seems selfish to stomp my feet and holler a I'm not ready to go until you bless me type of statement. 

But it's true.

I thought 2013 would be the year of twins.

Book deal. 
Adoption.

And it's funny, because 2012 pointed in that direction for a solid minute before both fell into ash around me. You think I would understand the dangerous lure of expectation.

Maybe it's the golden tint I tend to paint on everything, but I still have an unwavering hope, in these last 20 days, that something beautiful and magical could happen. Because if 2013 taught me anything, it's to start believing in magic.

 

This was a prompt from Story Sessions. If you're wanting a community of women who write and who will believe in your words, join us. There's always room, and 2014 is looking to be a promising year for us.

Posted on December 11, 2013 and filed under risk.