The year everything crashed, I listened to a piano version of a Coldplay and Taylor Swift mash-up by a musician I had not heard of before or since. I pulled myself up off my bedroom floor, stumbled upon this mash-up immediately, and found the repeat button through tear stained vision. I didn't even like Taylor Swift. I still don't, really. But I listened on repeat and it helped me breath through the moments I thought I might never breath again. I listened without explanation or reason.
I painted my nails black that fall. I had not worn nail polish in years, if ever, but I walked over to the kitchen drawer and pushed around Nicole's collection of colors. Pushed aside the reds, oranges, and blues. My fingers found the bottle of black in the corner, untwisted the top and mimicked her long, full strokes. The black spread, filling and healing. Unexpected but welcome.
I bought my mom's camera with me when I went to visit Nicole one Friday afternoon. I had it sitting on my desk from a vacation months prior. Reserved for vacations and special events, not Friday afternoon visits. We took the baby and the stroller down to the beach at the end of the road and began to snap photos. And I haven't stopped.
I began a tumblr, not entirely sure how to tumble, who to follow, what to do with this domain space. "Don't over think this. Just do it." I had an idea by then, of how this feeling worked. An urge, a desire, an intuition. Follow it. Let it fill me up. Photos and poetry and coffee and travel. I filled the space. I filled myself.
I pulled on an old black top, smeared my eyeliner, and pulled the black brim down to my eyes. I smiled at my reflection, at this new look. It's going to be a good Saturday, I knew. Turned on my ipod, grabbed my camera, my keys, my life, took a deep breath, and headed out the door.
I trust myself now. Without explanation or reason. I follow the urge, the desire, the intuition. I let it lead the way. To a place that fills.
