Today I begin the story of my 27th year. A life is a string of memories. These are my memories, my life, my story.
After volunteering to pick up sticks all morning in the Pittsburgh Botanic Garden, I enjoyed smoked salmon Eggs Benedict with some funky green juice that looked like swamp water but tasted like a fresh garden. While there, I encountered this piece of wisdom, supplied by the napkin ring: “If pancakes for breakfast are wrong, we don’t want to be right.”
Real moment: I’m grateful for everyone who has wished me a happy birthday. I realize how much I’ve opened myself up to people in the past year or two. I had closed myself off too often for fear of being hurt. Vulnerability will inevitably expose you to pain and heartache, but it also will create deeper connections with people that are more meaningful than the painfulness of the heartache would ever be. I see today how much I’ve grown in pushing myself to be vulnerable, despite the fear and hurt. I’m grateful for my old friends who have always been there, my family, and the new and genuine relationships that have grown recently. I’m grateful for the person I am becoming.