This weekend has been filled with such incredible amounts of living and loving. I’m still reeling from it.
Kurt Vonnegut said it best: “And I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, ‘If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.’”
So that’s what I’m trying to do.
The weather was lovely and I danced with friends and I saw an incredible concert from the front row and I ate diner breakfast at 4 a.m. and I hugged people I love and I found two incredible books at Adam’s and I bought new shoes. I submitted my senior portfolio and drank good beer with better people and pet dogs and ate home-cooked food and laughed until I cried and ran down the street with friends. I cleaned my room and found shoes I thought I had lost and talked about hockey with my favorite bartender and ate my favorite brunch. I got texts and little notes that filled me with utter joy and I drank good coffee and I listened to good music and I slept in.
I feel full and happy and whole. My body is tired in the sleepy, sun-soaked, you-have-done-something-good way. I have a crazy busy week ahead of me, and I’m going to need the feel-good vibes of this weekend to carry me through.
In one of my classes, we talked about the blog We Are West America, on which two friends documented an incredible motorcycle trip. The “about” page, though, has some of the most incredible prose on it, and it’s stuck in my head for weeks and weeks. Here’s my favorite part:
Family, where ever you find it. Overcoming fears and discovering new ones. It’s about being nice, stoking out other people, and high fives. It’s about letting yourself constantly evolve cause you know that you’d have to be an asshole not to. It’s about being rad, and having that full chested feeling of a swollen heart everyday.
That last line. Woof. I know that feeling so well, and I want to spend a minute to thank the Universe for conspiring to make such an experience possible.
Thank you to every person who made this weekend grand. You might not even know how much you mean to me, but I hope I’ve told you at least once.
Thank you to this weird, wonderful little town that’s let me call it home for so long.
Thank you to cheap beer and sunshine and the power of a really good hug.
Thank you to love for making life so damn great.