It's a new year. The smell of cracked fireworks lines the inside of my nostrils; the sky clouded with the fog of a bright moment. I breathe in a little more of the smokey excitement into my lungs. The smell, not as grand as a bonfire, but still intriguing. It's never felt more like a new year, a fresh start, than this year. It's never felt more like Christmas that it did a week ago. I can tell already that this year is going to be different and I can not wait to see what flowers it has to bloom before me.
So this year I write a blog. And you are reading it. I feel so blessed, whoever you are. And here is my promise to you: to write, when life allows, that is. I can not promise you any more. And if that is not enough for you, then I suggest that you not read this, for I feel that you would not understand the reality of my heart or the courage that I have been graced to enter. So here I am. Open. Real. Bold.
And that's all I can offer.