I’m at dinner…continuing my gorge on gumbo and pretty much anything fried. This is the second night I’ve eaten here, though tonight feels different. Maybe it was the fortune reading I had earlier; maybe it was getting my new tattoo finalized; or maybe, it’s me.
Me-feeling alive, glowing, brave…and happy. I didn’t come here to New Orleans to find myself-I came here to remember myself. To remember what I love and how I love: bright, full, and unconditional.
I’m smiling at passerbys and laughing with strangers. I’m drinking, dancing, listening and eating my way through this magical town and fuck, this town is part of my soul now. This town is my familiar. It’s called to me ever since I was a little girl; and now here I am, a Woman, feeling like that little girl again making her dream come true.
There’s a couple fire dancing outside. I can’t help but think that they’ve must have burned themselves hundreds of times and yet, there they are, lighting their flames and spinning in utter joy. Passion is beautiful. Passion creates happiness and life. Passion takes practice…
I’m 39 years old and I still have so much to learn about myself; about life; about love and about what happiness even is. I can define a lot of words; but I’ve never experienced, nor felt myself existing in a true definition of happiness and love is before. I want to. More than anything.
I looked up from writing just now and made eye contact with the guitar player. I blushed. I don’t think I’ve blushed in a decade. It’s an amazing feeling to go from dreading to excited.
I’m romantizing moments and inventing ideas again; there’s lightening at my fingertip, I just need to choose my next direction…