Swirly, sweet thoughts tonight as the sun settles in behind the slate-colored mountains.
Promises to myself: I will make it to visit the beach. I will climb a route. I will hike a mountain. I will go barefoot more often. I will keep writing that book. I will write in my journal more often. Send more letters. I will wake up earlier. I will eat more spinach. I will drink more tea. Less coffee. I will make more skirts, and wear fewer pairs of jeans. Less sheep, more travel. Less fencing, more outside. Less “it’s bedtime, Will,” and more, “Let’s catch fireflies.”
I miss the rush of the waves and the smell of the woods and the tired sticky sweat of hiking on a summer’s day. I am craving a day that I wake up with nothing to do, no plans, and no guilt if I pick up and leave for the rest of the day to do whatever I like. I am feeling cooped up by finances and by wedding planning and by the fact that something always needs to be done.
In the next year or two, I’m going to get my yoga teaching certification. This year, I will travel out of the country. And next year, too. I’m going to work on better work, not more work. I am going to finish that book. I am going to, I am going to, I am going to.
More tattoos and sun and surf and hiking and climbing and less lawn mowing, I say.
365 Day Bucket List:
i. Finish that book
ii. Make it to Colorado
iii. Make it to Costa Rica, see a sloth in person
iv. Climb a 5.12
v. Begin 200-hour yoga cert.
Baby steps, baby steps, baby steps.
Oh yeah, and also: As soon as the wedding is over, I am dreadlocking my hair.