Be Where Your Feet Are

Saturday, July 2, 2016


'Be where your feet are.'

That's what growing up is, I think. 

It's learning to love vegetables. To choose of your own free accord to buy mushrooms and turkey and kale and balsamic. To get up at 4 a.m. when you've been tossing and turning instead of staying in bed and waiting to fall asleep like your mom always told you. To make midnight eggs and look your lions of anxiety in the eye and tell them, "You do not get to speak louder than me."

To call someone babe for the first time in your life and to smile unsarcastically when you say it. To not caring what your life looks like on Facebook any more - or even wanting to have a FB account, even.

To realizing relationships are about compromise on your part just as much as on the other person's and that sometimes you have to give up something.

It's learning how to do life well alone and then learning the even harder lesson of how to let love in.

To remembering what you laughingly said to a friend months ago, "I want a pet because I need something or someone to love," only to understand later on that you had someone to love - and that person was you, and damned if you didn't finally start doing a fine job of loving yourself after twenty-three years. 

It means falling asleep safe in someone's arms and understanding that home can be a person, not merely a place. That as Bea Taplinn says, sometimes 'it has a heartbeat.'