remembering the wonder.

Anyone who knows me knows it's been a struggle, this move back North to NY. To everyone's surprise, including my own, I loved North Carolina. I loved it so much I stayed after grad school, and didn't want to leave. Sometimes it's hard to get perspective on the long haul, when all we see is what is right in front of us.

I was washing my hair tonight when my eye caught sight of my wrist, and it made me think. On the inside of my right wrist is the word "wonder," inked in black script. I got it months ago, because this time last year, when I was making the decision to pursue writing seriously, I kept listening to "bring on the wonder" by Susan Enan. I wanted the whole lyric, "Bring on the wonder" on my forearm, but was told it would be too big, so I opted for that one word. I chose it because the lyrics to the song reminded me that I'd pushed down wonder and joy for so long, and making the choice to be a writer opened up that exuberance once again. It gave me permission to be excited about my life again, to see and feel the possibilities that awaited me. It gave me the chance to dream. When I look at my wrist, it reminds me of those initial days of making the decision, those terrifying yet exhilarating days of thinking, what the fuck did I just do to my life and holy crap, I'm going to be a writer! Those nights where I lay in bed, unable to sleep because I wasn't doing something "practical" and wasn't sure if I'd have enough money to pay my bills. Those days that stretched into weeks of not knowing if I'd get accepted anywhere.

I looked at my wrist, the beautiful script lettering (he truly did an amazing job), and am reminded of why I pursued this. I am reminded of what drove me to tell my family I couldn't do science classes anymore and maybe I would have better luck writing. I remember how I loved writing as a child and teenager, and now I am having this amazing chance to refine my craft and learn from some of the best writers around. I am reminded to remember the wonder of last summer, of how I started seeing butterflies and dragonflies everywhere - symbols of transformation - after making my decision. Looking at my tattoo, it gives me hope. Hope that although things may seem dark now, the morning always comes. My next trip to Chapel Hill will come up sooner than I can imagine, and it will always be somewhere to which I can return. It gives me hope that I will love my classes, because I will be around authors whom I've only previously read about. Sort of like when I interned at Sloan-Kettering....everyday my mind would be blown by my coworkers whose research I'd studied for years....the fact that these people actually EXISTED and that I was TALKING with them stunned me daily.

So long story short, tonight I was reminded of why I am here in NY in the first place, and what my goal is. I worked my whole life - whether I knew it or not - to get to this point. I finally took that leap of faith and decided to take myself seriously as a writer and decided I was worth it to invest time and lots of money into this path. I cracked open and let in the wonder.