A (not-so) new debut.

Oh it's been a little bit. I apologize the drag of silence, but before I dive into a post about what exactly has been going on (a new job! wedding things up to our ears! honeymoon planning! relief! anxiety! okayness!), I think I will share bits about me that new (and old) readers may care to read over coffee, or a glass of noir, I will not judge, on this fine Friyay afternoon.

I have been incredibly big and I have been incredibly tiny and I am finally okay with not fearing or having to be one of those extremes. I'm building my curves, and I am working every day to own them.

Reading and writing are some things I miss the most -- concentrating long hours on creating or taking in content. I often overwhelm by how fast-paced and anti-analog this time is. I do not belong in this era.

I am a walking emotional sponge. I have been soaking in and carrying around other people's stuff my whole life. Good and bad stuff. It is a difficult trait to have because I feel what others feel and my body identifies it as foreign because it's not my stuff so it manifests as anxiety usually.

Now because of that, I burn out easily. People drain me. I'll usually have to leave the room and take breathers outside, in a bathroom, or if you have a dog you can usually find me hanging out with it, wherever that is. I can be down with dogs forever.

I am quite the catastrophizer. I sniffed a small neon green crayon up my nose when I was five and I thought I was going to die. I also kept it from mom because I didn't want to get in trouble. I later hid in the daycare's bathroom to panic and sneeze it out.

I'm the kind of girl who has an eye for a guy with strong hands, arms, a serious jawline, and is good-smelling. I get to enjoy all these things with Daniel and I am quite aware I'm with a looker. These days I think I've complimented him a dozen times on his deodorant I picked out. It smells loooovely but in a man-type of way.

I like pretending I am a wine connoisseur, though I gravitate towards about 2.5 variations. I like to feel fancy. I also like fancy cheese.

I am so looking forward to having a little family with Daniel. What better a sound than hearing little feet running around wood floors, soft skin, cherub lips, and curls, so many curls -- little we's.

I am so so shy. So shy. An extroverted introvert and I will let you mull through the shopping list of reasons why that may be difficult.

So, there you are. Hello again, and I will try to tend to this space more in the coming huge months!

Good, good karma.

Sometimes it comes around. 

Feeling nervous and giddy (but mostly nervous) this week. How I've waited.

I hope good, good karma maybe finds you, too.  

The worrier.

This is me. From birth even, I was the most anxious, fretful kid.

I hid things. Ruminated over them like a bad story you force yourself to read, just to finish it. To figure it out like some grand trouble there was an answer for. Thinking, then, it would wrap around tightly, consume, and last forever! Or become unbearable! Or I'd be in trouble! My stomach churned at every academic test, soccer game, dance performance, to the point where I'd gag. I don't know how or when I got over that. But maybe it just turned into another form of worry. Changed over like the seasons, transitioning from one state to the next. Hiding in the breeze and coming forth in the hot summer sun.

Ebbs and flows. Lays in the deeply strong, frighteningly accurate intuition I have (more, a post perhaps, about that later, I think).

Now though, this worrier girl, I'm unsure where she went or where she's been. I do not miss her, but I do anticipate her sometimes. Only this time, I can whisper, ah, there you are. I know you well.  I knew of you at a young, young age, and you weren't recognizable. A threat. I knew you as a teenager, in your early twenties, you were a terrible thing.

But now, as a woman, can identify you, worrier girl. I can ease you.

Nuptual musings and daydreams.

A sneak peek into my brain and what its waves are churning around as of late.

//

To veil or not to veil?

Twenty-three different categories of lists. And many a list within those lists.

Naked cakes! Bridal shower cakes! Buttercream cakes! Crepe cakes or cake-cakes?

Tweaking and fussing about our theme a hundred and one times.

Wanting to shout from the mountain peaks but keeping most things under wraps -- I choose not to make my Pinterest boards public! (Throws some kind of mood in the air.)

The gym, again and again. For those bridal arms and dress-worthy tush.

Thinking of every and all things needed to be done but wanting to watch Grey's/Friends/Dexter instead. Many times watching Grey's/Friends/Dexter instead.

Stares intently at one another. Let's just run off barefoot to the mountain's forests and get eloped amongst the sun beams and tall, tall trees. Quiet, just us, with wise mother nature. Eyes become wild with feat. Daydream some. Then continue planning our day, squeezing hands, cracking jokes, pretending we aren't subtly nervous but in an eager way. 

I am so excited.

Bits of wisdom.

Some things I have learned forty-four days into 2015. 

A jumble of musings, in no real (grammatical or chronological) order.

//

Without fail, I burn my lips and/or tongue on my morning coffee daily. 
Patience is no virtue of mine I suppose. 

One of the best forms of therapy is to rearrange your living space. 

Checking items off the wedding list equals sweet joy. 

Saying goodbye to a beloved succulent makes my chest ache. 

To rediscover cottage cheese and all of its curdled deliciousness. 

Write down everything. All that you think. All that you hear. 

Thinking Out Loud is the best song to hum. 

I get butterflies whenever I think of my to-read pile o' books.

  

I find a simple wardrobe with plenty of neutrals aesthetically
 pleasing and I prefer shades of cream, blush, or a light steel grey or blue.  

25!

A few snaps from my birthday weekend. Absolutely spoiled by everyone I love.

How am I 25? How can I reflect upon a year? I do know it's been a bit different than the preceding twenty-four. I also know I've learned the most about this lady I am --what I like, do not like, what I endeavor, what physically lightens my being and tilts my chin upward just so, what makes me curl into a soft, shaking ball hugging my sides to still the fear.

Tender. I've become tenderhearted and if this wave of emotions was somehow hidden, saved to be gently introduced to me in my mid twenties, I face it gracefully. I often become so joyous, I cry a little and it's okay. To me it means patience, bravery, and wisdom. Being at peace with my emotions and seeing them as familiar companions, teachers, entities I do not need to be afraid of, always will be my most colossal triumph.

And if I've softened some inside, my physical body has strengthened. I've never felt so strong and healthy before. I've never felt so graceful. I've never been so able. And this is strange and new to me -- loving curves, respecting muscle, being proud of leanness, smiling upon softness. Balance -- the most challenging and fruitful mantra. 

A year from now will be my golden birthday. What will I look like then? I will be married and 6 months in to being a wife, a person I hope I get to know who beams with loveliness in everything she does. I hope to continue my writing because it is my joy. I hope to create anything my hands are able -- photos, art books, crocheting, home decor. Perhaps we'll be talking about little ones. Perhaps we'll have our first home.

25 here we are.
Here I am.

Honey thoughts.

Those sweet sweet reflections that summon pulls of nostalgia. A melange of things, really. I've been quick to jot them down so they can't wander away again. And they've filled up the first several pages of my pocketbook. I like to note them as honey thoughts. Some are too sacred for this space, but there are a few I'd like to share. 

--

On gray, murky days, tracing rain drops on the inside of  the car window as they travel diagonally across the glass. Pinning one drop against the other -- seeing who wins.

How my mama used to play piano on the steering wheel to a certain oldies tune. And I'd giggle at her accuracy.

Sitting in Grandma's suitcase, hair a mess, bottle dangling from my lips, pretending it was my personal bed. And dozing off each time amongst her Chanel No. 5 scented dresses.

Peanut butter sandwiches while I was sick. And only peanut butter sandwiches.

He and I. Taking a walk in the field on a breezy, warm mid-spring day.

--

Do you have any honey thoughts?

Busy, busy.

01. A bit of a red lip for my Seahawks champs!
02. Quiet nights in, laughing and spending good, good time.
03. Caught him asleep on the couch one night, just like that.

04. A date at our new favorite Mediterranean spot.

Aw man. I really can't kick this busy thing can I.

I had thought, perhaps, the holidays were the culprit of keeping me very occupied, and they were in the loveliest of ways, but one good thing transitions into another like water. I am up to my ears in wedding details and plans, envelopes and color swatches, stamps and flowers and lists! Lists in abundance -- scratched out, checked off, beautifully messy lists. Good thing they're my favorite way to go about detailing. It's quite fun, now that we've got the big decisions out of the way.

See, for weeks I didn't know that was up, some absent thing seeming off and tonight, as I sit on my couch sipping coffee from our shiny new Keurig v2.0 (faaaaancy) I've got it, I think. All this talk of wanting to create and giving myself more space and time to do so, doesn't count if all I do is think about it making it happen. Thoughts aren't things actually, unless you make them so. And these swirling around in all that head space should be things because oh are they lovely.

One of my favorite thoughts are of my art journal. Which I think I'll dash off to work on now. I hope your Sunday was as lazily productive as mine!

Thinking in heaps.

Ah, I suppose there is a time every now and again where we rant. All this electricity gets stuck in our chests and it's very uncomfortable. I also suppose there will be times where this space will be a place for something like that -- an emesis tray to hold the evacuation of festering energy. This one will be short. I think.

A couple things, lo and behold, are making me think and think. Thinking in heaps and in mounds. Maybe it's just my own nature. Maybe, surely, I was born in the wrong era. But I hate how fast everything is. I hate how easy everything is. I hate how fast and easy are entities that form our impatient nature. Our human souls are on a downhill slope to being frighteningly banal. Feelings are hashtags and conversations are slipped beyond the point of worth because they become a means for attention instead of a good, hearty, story. Oh and social media, I mustn't linger on that topic right here, right now. So I will just say I love it. And I hate it. I cannot stand it, but like this entire earth's society, it sucks me in sometimes. It's made us approval-seeking, impatient, comparative human beings. And then it's numbing. It's so boring. It's too easy.

So here is my pledge, I suppose, my purpose of this here rant. I am here to tell myself and to tell you that I will slow down. I will feel. I will hand-write letters forever and make things and have conversations over coffee. I will live in the right now, and yes dreams are fine and all that, but if you're always chasing you surely aren't living. I will work on not feeding the need to capture everything in a photo or a post to where I lose the moment in preparation. I will read and feel and laugh real laughs born from the deepest nooks of my body

Maybe I'm just hollering into empty space, but I want interesting. Give me your story, not 100 different words and preceding number symbols to get attention. What makes you live? What makes you throw your head back and yell, laugh, or cry? Show me your mind, show me your words. 

Sickies and Kitties.

This post is brought to you by a very red, very chapped nose and we mustn't forget the duffel bags under thine eyes. A head cold (the plaaaaague! if I describe it appropriately) put me at mercy over the weekend. Our perfectly soft, appropriately soothing couch and I conjoined nicely.

Alas, I've had enough of declaring correct Family Feud survey answers at the TV -- do you suppose they get paid to give the most screwball responses for good television? Because a Koala is not a popular answer for an animal who uses the bathroom excessively.

And oh my favorite boy. He provided lots of soup and his left arm I love cuddle so. And my girl Taylor blessed the world with her best album yet -- and I thought she wouldn't do better than her last because I adored Red. My favorite track from 1989 is I Wish You Would. Others of course are Blank Space and Out of the Woods. It usually takes some time for albums to warm up to me, but as always, her music is instant.

So my Friday + weekend was: work appropriate, lazy Halloween costumes, a beautiful birthday celebration dinner for my beautiful mamabird, homemaking, and pulling off the ragamuffin-chic as made blatantly apparent above.

But I must add how achingly excited I am for what is to come. Holidays, joy, warmth, and everything leading up to July 31st where I will be a married lady.

Moving and mystery bruises.

Hello! Hi there, I'm still here.
A hasty update on life if you don't mind. It has been a little bit! As many of you know from Instagram and Facebook, Daniel and I have made the move into our own place. And doing so, we have formed solid musings about the process. Here's a few:

// Ikea is, and never ever was, a one-time thing. Ikea happens 5 times, at least.  

// Going into stores and completely forgetting what you needed to buy is a normal occurrence by now. 

// Kitchen trash bags are expensive. 

// Couch purchases are to be done late at night, preferably on a Friday, because they're on coupon, and there's only one left in the back. And no they cannot hold it. Getting it up to the third floor also is to be done late at night -- successfully, might I add. (Thank you Dad!)

// Coffee! iTunes!! Coffee! 

// A picnic on the floor is a perfectly fine solution for being without a dining table at the moment. 

// Wanting to buy. Everything. (I am not allowed anymore house plants.) 

But we love it so. We adore living together. Hanging out with my best friend for a forever sleepover and doing things like dancing in the living room, sipping on wine while assembling furniture, asking him to get my glass tupperware because I'm just too short to reach, watching Harry Potter backwards and forwards and halfway through because cable isn't up yet. Him, being patient and a big sweetheart as I fuss around, arranging decor just so -- measuring here, marking there. Spaces and corners we can look at and feel our home.  

Anyway. The bruises! I've accumulated an adorable little collection of battle marks from moving heavy things and clumsily running into new corners that my body is unfamiliar with -- hands, thighs, toes, hips, shins. I should have photographed them. Daniel whacked his head on a shelf in the fridge on the second night. 

So, I will share more photos as our apartment comes along. It's a little piece of magic, let me tell you.

To dream.

A dream so sweet, so real. You visit me often. It's like I know you and I haven't met you yet. I've memorized you. You don't exist. 

Yet, you do.

And then I awake this morning to this. Golden light saturating the shadows. It's the first thing I see as I rise and stick my toes in the carpet with sleep still in my hair and my senses. Consciousness comes in waves. I snap a photo. My mind then wakes up, too, ever so slightly behind my body and the dream comes back to me. Reintroduced with a tiny pull, an ache, and all that's left is wonder. And the cosmos sigh, Ah, yes. That dream was for a reason -- be patient my dear.

Defining joy.

You are ever so graceful and eloquent with your words, and I admire that.

You write of love, of calm, of adventure of fear, of excitement,

next, can you write of happiness? 

You know those tiny moments that seemingly arise out of nowhere, on the most average of days? Moments that make your heart swell and your eyes crinkle and then you can't seem to produce anything other than a smile? And then your so full of inspiration there's a shower of falling stars in your core? This little email was sitting in my inbox this evening and it threw me for a loop, but in the best way possible.  

Happiness is all sorts of wonderful things to me -- warm things, soft things, deep, light, loving, amusing, special things. It's imagination and grace. My darling fiance and how our lives together are just beginning. My sweet family and friends. Smelling the change in the air from summer to harvest. The layer of salt and sand you acquire after spending the day in the ocean. A fierce workout that makes you proud to be you. The vastness of nature and the universe we all reside in. It's feeling and thinking and library-laughs and loving so deeply. Happiness is so immeasurable. I may not directly write of it, but it is quite the merit in my life -- much of what I share in this space is happiness.  

And this? This from a dear reader, is happiness bursting from the seams. Thank you.

I absolutely love this stuff. Inspiration, creativity -- goodness, I wish everybody would write. I want to read about what makes you glad. That being said, I will share with you part of my response to her: 

If I ignite a flame in just one person's being, enough that they feel, 

smile, think, write, or, like you -- who perhaps engaged in 

all four -- took the time to reach out to me,

then I feel my job is complete.  

-m.

Taking stock.

This post has graced many of my favorite blogs lately and I thought it only appropriate I play along!

making: always.
cooking: if constructing turkey sandwiches on whole grain bread thins is cooking, since that is all my time allows, then yes!
drinking: too too much coffee.
reading: my new book, Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn.
wanting: for a big house with ever stretching white walls and light, nooks and crannies, and wood floors.
looking: for a perfect thrift shop with perfect vintage furniture + trinkets for the wedding.
playing: Sia's most perfect new album.
wasting: too much time being plugged in.
sewing: if only I knew how.
wishing: for autumn and noel seasons.
enjoying: this day that seems to think it is fall when it's midsummer -- the rain and fog are magic.
waiting: for our apartment to be ready.
liking: that darling half up top knot trend.
wondering: what our children will look like.
loving: abundantly.
hoping: for strength.
marveling: over the literal color of the universe.
needing: a slow morning followed by a spontaneous, soul-filling day.
smelling: warm thunder and misting rain on quite the emblematic Seattle afternoon.
wearing: gym clothes, for always and always.
following: an intense 12-week workout plan (see above).
noticing: increasing feelings of fulfillment.
knowing: I need to photograph more.
thinking: about the sweetest, most vivid dreams I've been having.
bookmarking: a few pages in The Four Agreements, but very disappointed in the book as a whole.
opening: a new life chapter soon.
giggling: at silly commercial voice-overs, as such.
feeling: at the precipice of adventure.

Slowing down.

What could possibly be more perfect than dropping priorities on a warm Tuesday evening, grabbing sandwiches after work, and going on a drive to find a sunset? Or watching the waves ebb and flow as the saltwater is almost tangible in the breeze. When conversation dances around the idea of whether or not Jurassic Park was right when they said mosquitoes were the first living things and having a good laugh because I was recently bit by a swarm of those suckers (quite literally). Wondering if there's a seahorse couple down below also eating sandwiches, waiting for the sun's descent as the ocean turns to ink.

Or finally seeing the sun disappear behind an island off in the distance. With reds and corals in the sky and shades of mulberry on the tips of waves. Doing all of these with your very favorite person, what could possibly be better.

Nothing. Not one thing.

Tiny pieces of lately.

The absolute best cookies and cream ice cream treat I have ever tasted, my niece turned nine -- nine? howwhy? Enjoyed a moment at the zoo where I embodied the bird lady from Marry Poppins in her abundantly mysterious, feathered glory. Handmade flower girl invitation treasures for my nieces and they gushed and laughed and said yes! But as long as I don't have to see you guys kiss! Suddenly needed many things from the Bath and Body Works Semi-Annual sale, which, correct me if I've gone awry, just happened a couple months ago. Oh yes I just need these 3-wick candles and foaming soaps! For smells and clean mitts! And finally treated thine eyes to the lovely flora and greens that usually come 'round in early summer.

Have a safe and sound 4th of July weekend darlings!

Thoughts this evening.

Flora during my afternoon walks. Always always.

Oh let's talk about expectations. Let me take a moment and nod to my pesky, oftentimes overly sensitive feelings. There comes a time in one's grown up life where a path appears -- a fork in the road of circumstance if you will. One way basks in the bitterness of others' negativity. It's a disheartening boulevard I have roamed down too many times. The other direction, a lane where the air is crisp and the soul is free. The sun forever shines -- where things feel good because they are good and nothing else matters. Where no one can bring you down.

You can probably take a guess at which path I've meddled with as of late. And quite honestly, I'm burnt out.

So here's to letting all of that go. Shame on them for not being reliable, considerate, decent human beings. But shame on me for expecting anything different. Here's to protecting myself from other's negativity, and making a conscious, thoughtful decision not to be the emotional sponge. I will hold dear the beauty I already have around me. The love and the kindness that's already here.

And be done with all the rest.

Busy bee.

Goodness. It feels like it's been quite some time because it has been quite some time. How is the warmth of summer's grand entrance here already? How has the solstice come and gone without lingering long enough for me to say hello? These recent weekends have been filled to the brim with tiny road trips, venue scouring, more Starbucks trips than ideal, overplayed mix CDs, thrifting, and the world of diy bridal party invitations -- which are turning out lovely if I say so myself.

But! We have found our wedding venue! And it is perfectly stunning and we just knew. July 31, 2015 -- our official day becoming Mr. and Mrs. The date just sounds perfect. It looks perfect. We have decided to keep the location hush-hush because it's an exciting secret to keep with family and close friends for just a little while longer. No peeking my sweet friends. We'll announce it soon enough.

Oh and I musn't leave out the adventure that transpired this weekend. My dear friend Alyssa captured our engagement photos in a hand-holding, palm-sweating, stomach-churning experience atop the second highest railway arch in the states. 347 foot drop right off the edge. Wood pieces with suspicious give. I was barefoot and only made it halfway across. It was terrifying in all the best possible ways. We managed to get some gems there and then pulled over to any interesting place we could spot to shoot the rest. Thank you for risking your life with us Alyssa! We are very lucky to have her, indeed. Alyssa and I shared a couple of delicious cranberry ginger ale spritzers mid shoot, which sauced things up nicely for the rest of the day. That surely contributed to my silly charisma and flushed face during the last leg of the shoot and will undoubtedly show up on film.

Daniel, my darling, you are marrying quite the handful.

Gray.

It has been a little since I've made an entry. Mostly because there's been a lot of gray. Gray like the inbetweens of life and I usually don't like gray because my perfectionist nature hangs on to the blacks and the whites until my knuckles change colors. Over the past year I've learned to let go more and become curious about the inbetweens instead of being so judging of them. That's where I really find I can enjoy life's tiny joys and work through any snags. It's so important to me that I accept the gray because 80-90% of life is the inbetweens. The okay-ness. The I'm not hysterically excited and I'm not precisely pissed off, but I'm good times. Some see this as an auto piloted state, but I like to get curious and just think of it as part of the adventure. Small is necessary for big. It's easier that way and I've mentioned something about it before here. I'm kind of all about that stuff and I use it to the be the best me.

Suddenly, our lives have been filled to the brim with wedding venues, color swatches, guest lists, textures, flowers, and paper. Appointments, long drives, and the words "catering, deposits, Saturday, and no we do not care about how your damn red barn makes for the perfect venue". Also, lots of car snacks as we sing loudly to mix CDs. Wedding planning is in full swing and we're just breathing, taking in the experience, and having a lot of fun. Daniel e-mailed me the other day and said, "Let's get a bottle of wine and look at venues, puppies, and color schemes." I don't know how I did it folks. I have the best future husband of all eternity.    
   
My back is finally doing better! I can't believe it still hurts to do things like sleep on my side or turn around in my chair or pull my shoulders back though. This is all a learning process and I never realized back injuries take forever and ever to heal. My last physical therapy appointment is today and I can't wait for it to be all over. I started doing more than just light cardio and my muscles are all like I volunteer as tribute! as they feel like they're slowly melting off my body. Getting back into a regular lifting and cardio routine after injury is just about the worst process ever. I'm weak, I'm tired, I'm sore, but pain is temporary and trust the process and hashtag strength! motivation! and sweat is fat cells crying and etc. etc.

I have been extremely confused about my new sleeping habits. I fight sleep like an infant and I've always fought sleep. I allow myself to get so stupidly tired that I'm out as soon as my head hits my memory foam pillow. This isn't new, but the fact my brain wakes me up at 2am each night ready to go is beyond me. And then I fight sleep some more. I'll scroll through Instagram or Pinterest under my covers at ridiculous times early in the morning because I'm up and fighting it again. Eventually I fall back asleep and I'll wake up to my alarm a hot mess. Maybe it's because I've got so much on my mind, but I'm not taking too kindly to these intrusive wake ups. Do any of you fight sleep like this? I know I should be more mindful that if I don't listen to my body and sleep when it tells me to, I'm not taking the best care of myself. I can't seem to break this habit.

Indeed, this entry was all over the place like I pictured it to be. But the space between black and white, excited and miserable, organized and messy, is allowed to be scattered. That's okay.

Have a glorious Friday and an even better weekend, sweet readers.

Us.

A candid from Memorial Day weekend. I love this one of him.

I think it's about time I tell you about my person. A brilliant human doing this thing called life with me. Several people have asked about our story and I think I put it off for so long because nothing I could ever type would live up to how this man makes me feel.

I met him in junior high and we flirted as much as awkward teenagers knew how to. He would be quite the gentleman and walk me to gym class every day after he'd copy my social studies homework. We'd exchange this awkward one-armed hug before we parted ways. He always held his binder off to the side. He always wore his Adidas sneakers and sported popped collars. Years, separate high schools, different people happened and it wasn't until a random afternoon in late spring I called him up. It was the end of 11th grade and warmer than usual in June. He was outside air drying from his post football practice shower. Whether it was curiosity, boredom, or an impulse, finding his name on my bulky Nokia phone was the best thing I've done. Nearly 7 years later, I'm marrying that nerd boy who pulled at my hair and copied my homework. He is my person and I have never been more sure of anything in my life.

We work because we are a hundred percent ourselves and we accept each other. One Direction often appears in mix CDs, we're health nuts and foodies at the same time. We both have passions for something; my writing and photography, his career and fitness. We both love nothing more than to spend quality time doing everything and nothing. We also know our own flaws and we make a conscious effort not to unload them on one another. We believe in patience and honesty and having conversations instead of letting adverse emotions overcome our words. We give each other grief all the time and joke around and the amount we still flirt hasn't changed a bit. And he has the best arms to snuggle with. The absolute best. I'm an arms and hands kind of girl; good arms are serious business and hands show hard work. His hands are rough and I love every callus. 

What we have is just so easy. It's always been easy with him. He is my oxygen when everything around me often becomes suffocating. He is the most gentle, kind, understanding man I have ever been blessed to meet. His light visibly radiates from his pores. 

Time and time again I have been asked how I knew he's the one. It wasn't some monumental moment where sparrows appeared in the branches of the trees and started to sing as we kissed in a warm embrace with cheesy background music. I knew he was the one when the butterflies didn't go away. I knew he was the one after I talked to him on the phone for 4+ hours as we watched YouTube videos at the same time. I knew it a couple nights ago when we literally could not stop laughing at some obscene thing I did. I knew as I held his head in one hand and a bucket in the other when he was so sick in the hospital as he puked out 2 liters of bile and I knew it on the last loop of the roller coaster we rode 7 times in Disneyland. I knew as I Googled hiccup remedies and tried them for hours because he couldn't stop hiccuping. I know each and every time he pulls the Forrest Gump when he blinks in pictures and when he plays with my hair and when we disagree and when we agree. How do you know ice cream will be delicious or that the moon will be up there in the night sky regardless if it's clear or if it's tucked away behind the clouds. I just know.

I know all the time.