Sunshine and salt-air.

Things are good these days.

My lungs are full of air, and I can run for a good distance without stumbling or tiring. It makes me feel young and vibrant again. My kitchen is filled with good smells and fresh ingredients.  My daughter laughs at my jokes, and holds me when I have to go. My friends are awesome, my job is rewarding.

I look out the window, and I see sunshine today. I smell the salt-thick ocean air, and my memories take me back to trips on my dad's old sailboat, adventures in Ocean Shores, kites, geocaches, and days when the light just seemed to never go out.

There's a great power in taking control of your life, of something as simple as pushing yourself to do things that you've never done - as though you need to remind yourself sometimes that you are not as old and weak as you felt before, not as powerless over your circumstances.

The summer looms, hot days, nights filled with friends, games, cooking. Family, new friendships, old stories being written anew in the seemingly forever-days of July and August.

It's hard not to feel content.

Vernal Resurrections

I started this as a place to blog, and then I stopped blogging almost immediately. My friend Taylor started up a running blog, and seeing someone else write is usually enough to break me out of my own rut and start writing. It was, after all, enough to get me to start running.

I'm halfway through week 4 of the Couch to 5k program, and in truth, it's deeply affecting my life. Having a reason to go outside alone has helped to push the clouds away, and keep me generally upbeat. It doesn't hurt that the jeans that had become too tight on me are now too loose, and I'm having to resort to using old jeans that long since stopped fitting.

It's been a strange month. Running, the abolition of dating, dietary changes too numerous to mention, and the fat-trimming of time spent socializing. No more soda, no more wasted nights drinking with people I don't really care about unless I'm drinking. I have weak moments, to be sure, but I just cram a slice of whole-grain bread in my maw, and that seems to settle me down.

As is always the case in the Pacific Northwest, springtime arrives with a monochromatic canvas of grays and browns. Mudslick puddles, rain, wind - it's a veritable cornucopia of seasonal depression, softly paving the way for days of sun and woodsmoke, s'mores and stories told in hushed reverence at the hallowed cathedrals of our great forests. For the first time in many, many years, I am filled with optimism and hope for a summer well spent.

My body will change, though it will take months, and maybe even a year or more. My energy is coming back, and my interests are expanding. My friends are falling by the wayside, save for the ones who bring out the best in me. It took me 30 years to get there, but I think that things may finally be looking a little sunny.

If the sun appears to set, I will run after it, until I catch it.

Sea.

I am overwhelmed these days by thoughts of the sea.

I miss too many stories, and I don't want to let them go. When you see death as your ending, you look for every opportunity to connect with everyone you can. I worry that this makes me look desperate. I worry about too many things. I worry that I worry about too many things.

I think I've pinpointed a lot of what's been thinning out my head lately - I lack a best friend anymore. I have a lot of people who fill parts of that role, but with Jess's departure, I lost a sanctuary, and I'm beginning to feel like it's too late to find one again.

I know that is a clinically retarded thing to say, I'm only 28, blah blah blah.

Some days it's all I can do to keep from watching the waves, and wishing I was alone, with nothing but an endless sheet of glass to sail, wind to push me home, and nowhere at all to be.

Nothing to see here.

The days are shorter, and I sometimes spend a half an hour just looking out the window before bed. The smell of leaves decaying, and the sound of wet tires on wetter roads. Sirens in the distance, and a train whistle. This is the fall, and I've hurt too much this year. It's time for a rest, until spring brings me back to life.

Things are in the works. Long term things, the realization of dreams, and a mark to leave behind when I finally go from this place. I won't jinx it. 

Let's light candles and burn wood in the fireplace; let's bake cookies and pies, and sing about the joy of each other. Let's remember for a time that love is something in our reach, and forgive each other for our past transgressions, to dance in our homes, and sing to our friends.

To find peace in being alive, and to forget the worries that plague our hearts.

We are all still here.