Letter from My 48th Year (Feb 26)
I was all fired up to write on my way home. Then I started reading a novel by one of my favorite romance authors, Susan Elizabeth Phillips. And now I’m regretting once again that I made this ridiculous vow to blog every day this year. I don’t want to crack myself open tonight. I don’t want to ignore that Mickalene Thomas is right when she says, “I think it’s the responsibility of the artist to reveal a little more of themselves.” I want to get lost in the story of two people trying to figure out how to love each other. I want to hang out with Daisy who’s figuring out how to claim her own power, and Alex who’s figuring out how to let the light in. And most of all, I want to know that no matter what happens by the time I get to the end, no matter how many times I reread it, Alex and Daisy always get together in the end. And given how much I’m trying to step out of my comfort zone and dare and risk in a way I haven’t in a good long while, or maybe never have given how intentional I’m being about it, I’m going to take a break and be selfish and spend the next couple of hours before bed in that circus with Daisy and Alex, knowing that no matter what, there’s going to be a happy ending.