People are people.

In 17 days, I will be a college graduate.

In 38, I will move to New York City.

In 40, I will have been married one year.

In 45, I will turn twenty-two.

Growing up, I always felt like I would know who I was by now. That I would know the ins and outs of my character like I know the feel of my husband’s hand in mine. That I would sense my changing emotions like bends on a well-traveled road. That I would remain steadily myself in the midst of varying crowds. That I would have the confidence to recognize accomplishments when I’ve made them, and measure the failures that have seen me to this point.

And some of this is true. Some days - days like today, especially - when the sky has not yet decided whether it wants to rain and I am inside, warm and alone, I feel that I know myself well enough to write about it. To be able to look up my name in a dictionary and be familiar with the definition that comes attached.

But I find that that definition so often becomes clouded by the various roles that I have taken on. I am not the sweet, silent type. I am not the funny one, the confident one, the awkward one. I am not solely organized, clean, carefree or motivated. I am all of these things and not one of them. I am beginning to realize that people are people, and not things – that they are complicated and mysterious even to themselves.

At this point, I suppose all we can truly know is the kind of people we want to be, not the boxes that we have been in.

I want to be the kind of woman who takes the long way home, because the trees are blooming along that route.

I want to be the kind of woman who wears high heels in the rain.

I want to be the kind of woman who keeps up with her friends, no matter how far away they live.

I want to be the kind of woman who smiles at strangers and says “hello”.

I want to be the kind of woman who has beautiful dreams, dresses up regularly, and reads poetry daily.

I want to be the kind of woman who gracefully handles change.

I want to be the kind of woman who asks questions and embraces challenges.

I want to be the kind of woman who writes love letters.

I want to be the kind of woman who is always learning and taking risks.

I want to be the kind of woman who whispers, and giggles, and screams and cries just because life is short and wonderful. 

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