Life
My drive to St. Paul and back to Winona gives me four straight hours by myself. Four straight hours to listen to music, think to myself, and contemplate whatever is on my mind at that particular moment. I am left with nobody but myself and my thoughts. I decided on my drive back to Winona this morning that I would start journaling some of my thoughts and feelings during my senior year of college, just like I started, what doesn't seem possible, but three years ago. I opened up my journal to write tonight and began to read my last entry. Almost one year ago I wrote about the struggle I was going through at the time, the failing health of my great-grams. Midway through my entry I found myself sitting here in my little apartment full of my great-grandma's belongings, mimicking the same layout as the apartment that I visited her in so many times for so many years, and crying uncontrollably. I didn't open this journal to write about my great-grams...but it's almost been a year...and my heart and longing for my great-grams hasn't even begun to heal. It got my mind spinning as to life and how unpredictable it is. Last year I would have laughed if anybody mentioned my moving back to Winona. But here I am today, living on my own in my little apartment on the side of town all by myself. Happy and content and wondering where life will take me next year. What city will I be living in? Who's arms will be there to embrace me? What will my agenda look like? Too many questions....but so many days to learn and inspire myself until next year I'll look back at this same entry and remind myself yet again...how ironic life is.