Dear Stephanie

Dear Stephanie,

Last time you posted you were in no way in a happy place. A fog loomed over you: polluted, irritable, and isolating. You could hardly see your own hands when looking down (and looking down you did a lot). You were so focused on trying to breathe, you hardly felt the sensation of a smile. Life was stagnant, and the earthquakes in your head were ever prevalent.

Here we are now. Not then. Now: imperfectly fractured in many ways, but look— the sun is shining. There is a breeze! It’s chilly, but the fog is passing like a piece of driftwood in a gentle, gentle, stream. One day that log will decompose along some far-off shore. Today the air is clearer. I am writing again. Reading again. Moving again. Being me again—being us.

Stephanie, thank you for existing to play another note in our melody. Right now we are resolving our minor key to return to major. Unlike sheet music, we cannot simply add or remove a sharp from past measures. What we can do is choose which notes we play next. You know that. It’s not so easy. It’s as confusing as a labyrinth asking us to pick one singular color. Not just red, but a specific shade of red. We often can only do our best guess. There’s no time to question if the flat played 3 measures before is right. We only need to keep on singing.

Our song is shifting, I am excited to see.

The dance has returned to our feet.

Stephanie, you are making waves and not being swept up in a current trying to steal our days.

I’m proud :)