So I went walking in the woods by the Little Miami River yesterday. Afterwards I came home and accidentally took a nap that lasted until just now. Argh.

The air was tinged with cold but the sky was fresh and blue, and I found myself remembering that Spring was coming. I remembered the times I’d been there before: that day Mark and I went swimming and he practically killed himself trying to save my flipflop from being carried downstream, the day I sat on the sandbank talking to Simon on the phone and then left to go sit by my mom’s bedside, the day I trampled through the underbrush and found a forgotten field nearby and almost got arrested. I looked up at the sparse trees and thought, I remember the way the sunlight dappled through the leaves and danced in magic shadows on the ground. I remember how the breeze was so warm and the wildflowers in the tall grasses popped with fornicating insects. The ground was green with shoots of grass and pocked with footprints where the recent rain had turned it muddy. And I thought it was so lovely then, it was so alive.

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My sister and I used to have this exchange in exclaiming and shocked tones, usually in front of a) my brother, who rolled his eyes, b) my mother, who rolled her eyes or c) strangers, who would have rolled their eyes but who probably didn’t hear us since the my sister and I have legendarily soft speaking voices.

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I know what I am.

But I’m still learning what I’m going to be. God knows. And in attempting to allow him to bring me into further alignment with him, and trying to pursue him as relentlessly as he has pursued me, it’s a joyful adventure, and so full of surprises. Not that I could pursue him as beautifully and doggedly as he has me. I cannot believe the places he has come to to find me and take me back with him.

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