The Girl Who Lived.

I’ve heard people say that every day is a gift, but I think about it differently now.

I’ve been sick for nine days. And I’m thinking that it’s a privilege even to be sick. To stay in bed for over a week. To have a partner who brings me whatever I need and keeps things moving. To read a poem to him. To shower and put on cozy clothes.

I feel like something major has changed in my perspective, like I’m not quite the person I was this morning. I have had an awakening. Today and all future days will be different.

Why? Because I’ve been thinking about Harry Potter. I missed out on the books growing up; I read them at B’s request in my late twenties. Harry survived an encounter with an evil sorcerer, an encounter that killed his parents, that scarred him literally and figuratively, that no one should have lived through. Everyone called him The Boy Who Lived.

Fourteen years ago today, I survived risky O’s birth, a scary surgery, and a postpartum illness that easily could have killed me. I lived.

Five years ago next week, I put down bottles of pills and a razor. I got out of the bathtub, woke Josh, and went to the hospital. Despite a global pandemic, despite mental illness, despite impossible circumstances, despite despair, I lived.

I am The Girl Who Lived.

These fourteen years mark time I easily could have missed. Fourteen years to love, to see, to create, to read, to write, to advocate, to see so many brilliant shows, to watch movies and listen to music, to meet my best friend, to write my first novella. I feel like I haven’t done enough, but I have done so much with this extra time!

And I didn’t die in that bathtub, in an ambulance, or in an ER five years ago. I’ve won awards. I’ve completed books. I’ve gotten a book accepted for publication. I’ve visited my favorite city. I’ve read hundreds of books. I’ve discovered Pippi Post and Annie Stegg and Art by Isobelle, artists I adore. I’ve gone to bookshops, discovered Quail Ridge Books in Raleigh and Chapter House Books in Fayetteville and Strand in New York. I’ve gone to my first residency! I’ve taught again. I’ve sent out 150 submissions that never would have seen the light of day. I’ve discovered Shuly Cawood’s workshops and written so many poems. I’ve filled shelves of journals. I’ve cooked amazing meals all by myself—and that’s just recently! I’ve connected more personally with a couple of great people. I’ve started getting the Archer & Olive subscription box, which is one of my favorite things. I’ve found so many favorite things, so many great reasons to be alive. I discovered Pan downtown, a favorite restaurant. I’ve gone on dates and had weekend getaways. I’ve read my poetry to strangers. I’ve smelled candles and tasted Cold Stone Creamery milkshakes. I’ve found the most comfortable pants (Lou & Grey). I’ve gotten a cat! I’ve endured heartbreak and come out more authentic and more tender. I’ve found a new level of love.

I’ve celebrated five more Christmases. I’ve reached almost twenty years with J. I’ve started a fun Instagram. I started a website and a Substack. I’ve moved into a dreamy townhouse and decorated it just as I like. I’ve discovered poets. I’ve discovered Catriona Ward. I’ve seen the seen the Wicked movie! I’ve heard my child laugh so many times and watched him thrive at school. I’ve seen O find peace from his anxiety. I’ve seen Six and added a new cast album to my favorites. I’ve bought a pink glitter lamp—something I’ve wanted for over twenty years! I’ve taken classes with my favorite writer! I’ve found Pipsticks and Violette Stickers. I’ve put lights on my porch for the first time, and I’ve spent so many mornings sitting out there.

I’ve turned forty. I have made love. I have recognized my need for self-love. I have surrounded myself with a Glinda-pink bubble of beauty. I have sparkled. I have lived.

And I will live all ninety-seven days that are left in this year. I will engage. I will learn and love. I will let art enrapture me. I will grow closer to J. I will laugh with B until my stomach and my face hurt. I will say funny things, clever things. I will write poems. I will send writing out into the world. I will, to quote Little Women’s Marmee, embrace my liberty and see what wonderful things come of it.