Dear Dad,

On this Father’s Day, I wanted to share a message of love and appreciation with you. Thank you for everything we have been through together. Through the ups and downs, I’m grateful that you’ve always been there for me and have never let me down.

I know I haven’t always turned out to be the person you might have hoped for, but I appreciate that you didn’t hold anything against me. Instead, you gave me a chance to learn and grow, even when you disagreed with my choices. Your acceptance means so much to me.

I cherish all the conversations we’ve had while I was growing up. While you are my dad, as I got older, you also became an example of how a partner should be to me. Your actions and the way you treat others, especially women, show your kindness and dedication to making people happy. That is truly special.

I love the father figure you’ve become, and anyone would be lucky to have you as a dad. Please don’t ever change the wonderful person you are. I want you to know that, no matter what I do in life, I will always be your daughter. Although I may not be able to do much for you this Father’s Day, I hope this message and letter brighten your day.

With love,
Your Daughter
Samantha

Once upon a time in a cozy little town, there lived a man named Zack who adored his cat, Tigger. They were inseparable, sharing everything from lazy afternoons on the chair to playing video games. The only problem? Zack had a knack for making the most outrageous jokes about his feline friend.
One sunny afternoon, Zack’s Cousin Jake came over for a visit. As they settled in with snacks, Jake noticed Tigger lounging on the windowsill, looking particularly regal.
“Hey, that cat sure is a lazy king!” Jake chuckled.
“Lazy? Nah, just well-fed!” Zack shot back with a dramatic flair, “Why, if I were hungry enough, I might have to serve him up with a side of meow-tatoes!”
Jake laughed, “You wouldn’t dare!”
“Oh, come on! Just imagine the recipe: a pinch of catnip, a dash of fish sauce… I call it ‘Tigger à la Zack!’” Zack grinned, mimicking a gourmet chef.
Tigger, unimpressed by the banter, lazily blinked and turned his back.
Zack passed, and one evening, as Zach prepared dinner, he noticed Whiskers watching him intently. “What’s up, little buddy? Planning your escape?” Zach joked, eyeing the cat. “Don’t worry; the last thing I want is to eat my best friend! Though you do look quite tasty in that sunbeam.”
But as fate would have it, Zack’s playful comments soon turned against him. That night, after a hearty meal, Zack plopped down on the couch, feeling a bit too full. Tigger, sensing an opportunity, hopped onto Zack’s lap and settled in for a cozy nap.
In a mischievous mood, Zack whimsically told Tigger, “You better watch it! If you keep snoring like that, I might just give you a nice little sauté!”
Suddenly, Zack’s stomach let out a loud grumble, and he declared, “Oops! I guess that’s my ‘cat’ ringing!”
A bewildered Tigger lifted his head and stared at Zack, probably thinking, “Did you just insult my cooking skills?”
From that day on, every time Zack joked about eating Tigger, the cat would puff himself up and slowly back away, tail flicking, as if he were plotting to outsmart his goofy owner. After all, he might be soft and fluffy, but he wasn’t about to become anyone’s dinner!
And so, the two continued their playful banter, with jokes flying around like confetti, but neither ever seriously considering the other as a meal. Because at the end of the day, Zack knew deep down that Tigger was not just a pet; he was family—one that was not on the menu!

To my oldest daughter,

You’re approaching a significant milestone this year, and I can hardly believe you are getting ready to turn 15 and start your freshman year of high school. I want you to know that, despite the long and difficult journey we’ve shared, my love and feelings for you will never change.

I admit that I made some mistakes when I was younger and that I wasn’t fully prepared to be a mother. However, my experiences with you and your siblings have helped me make better choices for you. I want you to know that I will be here for you as much as I can to support you in your career choices and make that next phase easier for you.

As your birthday approaches and you continue to blossom into a young woman, remember that you are ready for whatever comes your way. No matter what you choose to pursue, I will love you unconditionally. Even though I may not be around 24/7, I’m just around the corner.

I love you.
Your Mother

Dear Unsealers, this is a story about a girl who started her school journey with many possibilities until she found the one piece that changed her life forever.

Sammie was in the process of just starting her sophomore year at high school. She ended up finding herself a whole new bunch of friends, activities, a whole new bunch of choices that she overwhelmed herself at first but she figured out she was going to just wing it and see what she could get into even though her freshman year didn’t start too great after her relationships got the best of her but she thought to herself not to worry there were new things out there to explore so she didn’t mind what she was going to endure next. She couldn’t believe that after her classes were set in and everything, how the lunch program was set up with different times, it was like, well, why can’t everyone in the school eat together, but they say there’s not enough time during classes for everyone to be put together. Anyway, besides her exploring the different outcomes for friends she ended up one day during an afternoon recess she was chatting with one of her friends and she stumbles across the gym and saw a bunch of students playing around in the gym she assumed it was p.e class but she for a split second something caught her eye and her friend was wondering Sammie who are you starring at and she told her that she was looking at someone that piqued her interest and she asked her friend who was he? Do you know anything about him? She started laughing and telling me things about him, but we ended up getting caught by Zack and one of his friends looking at us was wondering who that girl was staring at me and why. We started leaving from the gym doors, and she kept thinking to herself Wow, I like the way he looks, his smile, and laid back personally. She wanted to know, but she wasn’t sure where to start. She ended up, however, getting lucky in the next few days. Zack and Sammie ended up reconnecting during a PE class together and had to spend it outside on their course track. They started talking as they were walking towards the bleachers they couldn’t believe they were laughing about how they kept looking at each other and she started spilling her guts about how she makes her feel cute and attractive, and the other things about him that made her light up but she started to notice how he would just sit there smiling, blushing with everything she said and he started muttering about his life talking about what he likes and so forth. As they were walking they were discussing if they wanted to begin something but they weren’t sure but she felt something starting to happen inside of her and she decided to go through it but she, however, wasn’t sure if he had every intention as she did but after a long talk they decided to start dating on what they noticed was funnier they ended up looking at the time when they walked back to the class that it was their friend’s birthday today so they said look our anniversary will always be April 24th after that they ended up being inseparable. They both started every day by talking, texting, hanging out, you know the drill, but they ended up hitting a huge snag during school time. She ended up figuring out she wanted more of the relationship. She wanted to always be around him, and she wanted to get to know more about him, but she noticed, especially after he graduated from school 2 years later, that the attraction started dying down, and she wanted to know why. She found out at first that his family was working all the time and he wasn’t old enough to drive yet, so she figured that he couldn’t see me as much, so she brushed it off her shoulder for now, but as time went more, they were happy together. Even though at the time he was working she felt like he made the time the best he could to see her, call her, and text her it was like she was doing all the work including having to get in the middle of his parents and his cousin to spend time with him cause she was in the same predicament at the time he was the only flaw on her end was she was living with her parents at the time and even she had no way to get to her love so want she wanted to explore more and open into she couldn’t get her answers. So, during her last round of school, she made the worst decision to drop out of school even though her peers and teachers kept putting the idea and guilt in her head that she was so close to finishing Sammie was determined after failing her 1st 6weeks course and her senior project scared her into finishing her school year. Even though later on she admitted to Zack that he was the main reason why she left school. She said she felt that he was a big piece of her life, and since that was the only way they could honestly see each other and spend time with him, that was the only way their connection got stronger. She felt that since he was gone, she couldn’t focus on what was more important to her. So she ended up dropping out of high school and tried to focus on her next choices for her life, but she mostly paid attention to how to figure out how to spend more time with Zack while he was struggling with his work and family. As time went by, Sammie ended up losing her home, and she had to go to a program with included housing, and at the time, as she was working on herself, she was mostly focused on more of her relationships. She was still having problems with Zack. She ended up finding out more information about him than she ever prepared herself for. As it turns out Sammie’s identity that Zack knew about surfaced to his family and they weren’t happy that he wanted to be with someone like her so in time she noticed that things were drifting more apart once she confronted him about why he told her that I wasn’t really happy being with you my family said that you should only love me no one else I wasn’t ready to communicate with you, move in, or anything. I wasn’t ready to give up everything I had for you. Sammie dropped everything suddenly and was thinking a lot, but ended up saying what she felt. How could you say that? I did my best to be with you. I wanted us to spend more time together, spend nights together, and see how things with us were going to be being around each other more to see if we were ready to expand further, that’s all she wanted, but that wasn’t the case for him. So, after heated words were thrown around, we decided after 3 years to end everything and just be friends. Sammie ended up resenting him for a while, but something in her heart cared about him so much that she always ended up talking to him and checking on him every day as they both moved on with their lives. During their time apart, they ended up going through different locations and different people, and even brought new additions to their lives, but something ended up tying them back together. She ended up after a hurricane destroyed her life. She ended up one day going to visit Zack at his new location to find out that he was just living his life day by day. He was doing alright, just working and taking care of his new children. She sat down and explained to him everything she was going through and what her next steps were after the hurricane she endured blew through everything she was taught, she had, and everything was shattered. They talked about possibly reconnecting, but this time, everything was drawn out to make sure this was what they wanted to do. She wasn’t sure what he was thinking, even though he said everything about how he was feeling about it. They decided to leave everything that they had dealt with behind and started to try again. She couldn’t believe that everything was going to fall back into place. She kept running thoughts through her head like were things going to be different this time Were our connection that we have going stronger Were we going to be happy together were we able to produce our family Further Many questions were soaring through her mind but her worst part came true when she was making her dreams happen the hurricane came back through and it was trying to destroy everything more Sammie was trying to do to make it come true but the rain from the storm was manipulating everything in place. Zack went in and protected her by blowing through the storm and helped Sammie move everything in and get them set up for the next questions in her journey. As to this day, they have moved to another location, added a furball addition to their journey, and they are going on 19 years of best friend relationship and 3 years of a connecting marriage.

I would like to share a magical moment that has become a delightful part of my life. It’s been nearly a year since my husband and I decided to add a furry member to our family: our cat, Tigger. He is an orange tabby with a very unique personality. He loves to sniff you, rub against you, and meow loudly whenever he feels ignored.

Since we’ve had him, Tigger has developed a bad habit of trying to escape and sometimes goes missing for a day or two. He can also be quite destructive, scratching up furniture, messing with the blinds, and clawing at the windows. Despite these quirks, he is very lovable. He meows at you, snuggles next to you, and follows you to the bathroom. He definitely makes his presence known whenever you try to work.

So far, Tigger has been dealing with fleas and ticks, but ever since he started his new medication, he’s been doing much better. Even though he can be a handful at times, we love him no matter what, and we’re grateful for the happiness he brings into our lives.

I think I have fallen in love with you; it’s been a long journey of convincing myself that I am worth having you.

I get up early just to spend time with you, and you are the last thought that I have at night. You make me a better version of myself, because I never want to give anything but my best to you!

No matter the day, you are always there for me, encouraging me to be better than yesterday, but regardless, I know I will always have you there!

You are golf!

I love you!

Dear mom,

You’ve known me the longest. You had a big role in making me. I was one part you and one part Dad. One part breath, one part earth. Your womb was the kiln I found my true form in.

I was one of 3, byt you always made me feel like the top of that triangle, the high point of our five-pointed star.

I remember you bought the anthology of young writers when, in 5th grade, my poem about winter was published in it.

You knew I’d get into Luther, but you forced, forced me to choose a back up school. Still believing while going over my financial package, with Dad, on our Windows desktop in the living room, that I could make that driftless dream come true.

After coming home from our church’s mission trip to Juarez, I thought you didn’t take me seriously when I said I wanted to go into the Peace Corps after college. But when I was boarding the plane to South Africa wearing my life-sized backpacking backpack, I knew your tears were partly of maternal pride.

You were there when I was in-patient and cracked jokes about the hospitilization experience. How the little library on the ward had barely any books and included the Uglies series and The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People.

You were there when I became a teachers, got my masters and licensure in a year. You were right there cheering me on as I moved from school to school, tirelessly looking for my teaching home.

And you supported me as I published my book of poetry, and pitched it to an editor. You always listened to my words and said they always struck you as insightful and inspiring. I knew I always had an audience.

Now, I’ve learned that you’d still be with me, be my bright shining moon, in the darkest of nights. When I was a way from home, you always said to look for the moon and know that you’d be looking at the same moon.

When you got cancer, I knew I had to keep looking for the moon, for myself and for you.

The moon is always in the sky, no matter the stormy weather. You held the moon in the sky for me so I could always find my way, even if the path led far from home, or from what I thought home was.

For always being my moon, I love you.

Let’s go back to those nights of walking the neighborhood.
Of riding our bikes thru that same neighborhood bypassing the “scary” street.
Let’s go back to sitting in front of the TV playing video games til the sun comes up.
Go back to the days of driving around feeling like grown adults.
Let’s go back to those day trips that consist of music blaring thru the speakers. Our voices singing as loud as they can.
Go back to the nights of just us girls & the open road which led us to the unknown.
Let’s go back to those nights in our 20s of just dancing the night away with no cares in the world.
With the only thought of “will it be mimis or dennys” after the night is done.
Let’s go back to girls night in.
Banging drums. Tapping the microphone. & strumming the guitar.
Can we go back and just live for the moment?
For the simplicity.
For the joy.
Can we go back & just enjoy being present?
No rush for the next task.
No responsibilities that will consume our time.
Can we go back & just be?
Let’s go back & see.
Just us three.

September 2019, I was walking to the bus stop to go to work at the church as the administrative assistant. The day was rough. My body was hurting and I didn’t understand or know why, yet refusing to take the opiates the doctors offered me to mask the pain. Walking with my heavy backpack, my spirit was low and my head was down as I braved the even heavier traffic of Lafayette Road. Walking with my head down, something that growing up in my family and in my neighborhood, was taught not to ever do.
“You don’t ever walk with your head down. It’s a sign of weakness, insecurity or pain. Always walk with your head held high, no matter what or who, you don’t look down unless you are picking up something.” I heard my grandmother’s words with every step I took, chuckling a bit to myself about how crazy I often drove her.
I’d joke and say “But Gaga, I’ve found some good stuff with my head down. Remember that $100 bill I found on our way from the ticket house? I found my favorite stone, a lottery ticket and that sack of weed…”
“Hush!” she’d scream and I’d giggled but straighten my face sure enough out of respect and the fact that I knew that my grandmother was, as always, “speaking the truth.”
Yet that day in September 2019 with Chronic pain, depression, grief and mourning so much loss – my head was down. I was in the midst of several storms and my backpack probably weighed a ton. Midway in the middle of the street, as the cars raced by on every side, on the ground lay a butterfly on its side. Its wings flapped weakly, barely moving and as the cars passed by us both on every side, I walked past it and thought, “how sad, it’s going to die.”
I had got to the bus stop but couldn’t take my mind off that butterfly, so I walked back to the middle of the street, noticed it had stopped moving and picked up the butterfly by its wings. Here I was hurting, going through, in the middle of heavy traffic and afraid of bugs – picking up this butterfly by its wings to take it back to the bus stop, for what, I didn’t know. I placed it among some flowers and weeds, and as I waited on my bus to arrive, the butterfly’s wings began to flap as it moved up higher on the flowers and finally the light pole. As my bus came, I took a picture of the butterfly without understanding how significant that moment truly was or what the purpose of this simple encounter with another of Yah’s wounded creatures, on this particular day, was for. I can tell you that when I got on the bus that day, my spirit was much lighter and my head was held high.
I will never know what happened to the butterfly. It could have dropped dead the minute I was gone, fallen victim to a bird, went back into the streets to be run over or it could have flown to lands unknown. I can’t tell you what happened to that butterfly because that part of its journey was not my assignment. My assignment was a mere simple thing and gesture, to pick up that butterfly and put it in a better position.
In ancient culture the butterfly is a symbol or personification of the soul and rebirth. In fact the Greek word for “butterfly” means “soul” or “mind”
“The butterfly at the bus stop” became my testimony on how we should never be content on walking past something or someone who is afflicted, who needs help, and not do anything. This encounter reminds me that we are all Yah’s butterflies and at some point, we have all been that butterfly in the middle of some road or storm in our lives, where we were or felt weak and The Most High sent someone to pick us up by our wings and put us in a better position in life. Be it physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually, financially or professionally.
So when we talk about mental health and spiritual health, we have to talk about how 50% of mental health illness is hereditary and 50% environmental. We can not control what we are as far as our heredity but we can control how we help ourselves or others who are afflicted. For those who are commissioned to serve by ministering to others also note that you can’t pick a butterfly up safely by the wings if you are too busy stepping on the body by being judgmental, self absorbed and/or holier than thou attitude. How can you both judge and labor with someone at the same time? Sometimes we call ourselves picking somebody up but because we are either too broken ourselves, ill equipped or too distracted that we end up causing further damage by pulling their wings off.
And if you are the butterfly at any point in your life, it’s ok to have faith and get help too. It’s ok to have therapy and theology, to allow yourself to be picked up and placed in a better position. Don’t let anyone tell you that therapy is a waste of time, especially when they don’t have the time, because it’s not. When we have been all traumatized by a violent American history, an impatient, unemphatic, unjust and harsh world that results in the lives of our children being taken, them taking each other lives and taking their own lives – it’s’ evident that it feels as if there are more butterflies in the middle of the road than they are up flying. Do we truly see each other? Do we not recognize that how we treat or don’t treat our fellow brothers and sisters has such a ‘butterfly effect’ in the world?
We need to seek to always be obedient, use our discernment and be bold in our assignments. That each of us are butterflies, a soul, that as long as we are living may be seen at any given time, in the middle of the road or in mid-flight on this journey called life. The next time you see someone in need of being picked up by their wings, may you not walk by content on that it’s not your assignment or so caught up in your own world that you fail to see the beauty and purpose in another. So as we continue to pick each other up, may we pick up our own wings by doing so and fly to destinations unknown but always felt.

~ copyright © 2019 TaMara E’Lan G.

The storm, the sun, the people
Gimme shelter

The wars, spiritual or physical
Gimme shelter

Higher Power, Universe, provide it wherever my spirit goes ….. If I seek it, it will show

Just like my glow

These are magical moments we can experience everyday

If we seek we shall find.

march 15 2025
the best day of my life

I want to preface this by saying the title may be slightly misleading-march 15 was not the best day of my life in question (although, it was pretty good).

after spending a couple hours dillydallying about fisherman’s wharf and pier 39 in San Francisco, I decided to take the cable car back to my hotel (only the cable car took us half way, kicked us out, and told us to take the bus, which I opted to walki the mile, I decided I needed to walk that extra scoop of ice cream off). anywho, I was sitting in the cable car, distracting my mind from being present, scrolling through tiktok while also on facetime with my long-distance best friend. i saw a tiktok that nearly stopped me dead in my tracks. he was posing the question of “what was the best day of your life?” and I really thought ‘wow, I can’t pinpoint that’. and of course, the comments were filled with similar thoughts to my own.

what’s even worse, I could immediately think of an exact date that I’d consider the worst day of my life. I can tell you all the details about that day. almost as if I can relive it.

so it had me thinking, what could possibly have been the best day of my life? and a lot of people like to go the route of they haven’t lived it yet, they haven’t gotten to the best day ever yet. but that proves the point.
that proves that we are always just waiting for the next best. that we’re always comparing every good thing to happen to something else. that enough is never actually enough. success isn’t successful enough. happiness isn’t happy enough. every good thing could be better. we have so deeply engrained in us the ideal that the grass is greener on the other side. that’s what drives people to infidelity. because there’s always someone else out there that could be better, right?

it’s the potential we hold onto, the hope that we grasp onto. I think it gives us purpose- knowing the best day ever has yet to come. that we will always have something to look forward to because the best day has yet to happen. (at least, for the glass half full kinda people- optimistically scouring the earth for meaning, searching for the positive in every situation, seeing the world as beautiful and abundant.)

but I don’t think that way. I think when we are asked what the best day of our life has been, it’s conclusive only of what we have so far experienced. it’s a day that’s subjective. and may continue to get replaced as we live on, and value other things and find other events more fulfilling or more joyful.

it’s much easier to pinpoint the worst day ever because we don’t want to top it. we don’t want to one up some really bad shit. we want to leave it in the past. horrible days beg for our acknowledgement because they drain the life out of us. experiencing a day so bad that you were so painfully aware of all of your surroundings down to the smell of the stale air in the brick room of the house that was built in 1812 that you were standing on. down to the sound the floor made when you stepped on the creaky wood on your way out the door for the final time. you’ll remember exact phrases you said, exact ways that you felt. tastes, smells, sights, absolutely consumed you in a moment that left a forever imprint on your being. maybe not everyone’s worst day of their life was a traumatic event, but I think a lot of people have experienced trauma in even smaller scales.

horrible events beg for us to be sucked into them. they are so energetically draining, like a black hole, an energy vacuum. the energy we put towards negativity requires more effort than feelings of joy, which is why negative memories are far easier to remember than those that were joyful. bad things are often synonymous with our uncontrollables in life. because, unfortunately, we are unable to control everything in our life, which can lead to unfavorable things taking place. and, well, that’s life. but it takes a decision, effort, to make a positive thing happen. it takes effort to have the best day ever, and the worst day ever is typically one that happens TO us, rather than for us, perhaps.

though, I believe joy requires more autonomy. it’s like the paralysis of decision. deciding which day we can proclaim as the best feels like too much pressure. there’s where the pressure to be perfect comes into play. the pressure for the best. we have more choice in the decision of the best moments in our life than our worst. as I feel joy is a passive feeling, that is fleeting because it feels good to flow with the emotion of. and experiencing pain or suffering is much more active, as we spend the time in efforts to resist the feeling, rather than sitting in it and going with the flow. it’s easy to get in the boat and flow happily along the river, it feels good, natural, easy. it’s much easier to be joyful and have a happy memory. but you’ll remember the time you had to row upstream in a storm and all of the effort you had to put in to keep moving forward. same way our brain works through memories.

somehow, joy takes effort and happens naturally all at once. that’s the duality of it. it can be easy, and so difficult.

so, I was thinking about my best day. and I think where I’m struggling is that I want to combine a bunch of favorite memories to make the most perfect best day ever. I find something wrong with each day that I start to think is the best I’ve had. nothing is sufficient. it doesn’t help that I’m a happy crier, it doesn’t take much to make me feel emotional in a good way. and every time I feel so encompassed in my emotion, my eyes swell, I feel so deeply. that’s why I’ve been pondering my best day ever, wracking my brain of every positive memory I have ever had in my 24 years of existence thus far.

luckily for us, we’re likely to replace our best day ever time and time again. it just means we experience way more good in life than bad, and thank the Lord for that.

my most recent best day ever was in Belgium.

I arrived in Brussels and decided I wanted to take the train to Ghent. oddly, I have felt an overwhelming sense of comfort every time I’ve been to Belgium, a home-like feeling. this time was no different. on the 40-minute train to Ghent, I sat by the window. put my phone face down on the tray table in front of me, took my airpods out and put them back in their case, and just stared out the window. I do this thing when I’m traveling where I actively try to soak in every single moment, especially the mundane moments. (though I’m realizing I’m a hypocrite based on paragraph two of this.) if you lived in Brussels and took the train to Ghent every weekend, you likely would find ways to distract yourself, you would get used to the ride, bored of it even. not me, this was my first time. and looking out at the countryside, it was so eerily similar to parts of Kentucky where I’m from, and I started tearing up. the small part of myself that misses home was feeling engulfed in this moment. the little girl that was coloring next to me kept looking over at me and I’d like to think it was because she thought I was cool, but she probably actually thought I was ridiculous. I actually thought she was really cool, I was thinking wow, how cool would it have been to grow up here.

after getting dropped off in Ghent, I wandered through the streets, and this is what I have in my note’s app,

“the countryside of belgium, perhaps ‘the burbs’ inbetween brussels & ghent, actually look eerily like kentucky. and i feel weirdly at home.
ok everyone comes out on sunday to buy tulips & other flowers in ghent? thats cute. and the rich people have having bottles of wine & charcuterie in the middle of all of it”

that doesn’t tell you much. but for a moment, I envisioned myself living here, coming out on a Sunday afternoon to buy tulips and have a European brunch with family and friends, and I liked the way I felt a serotonin boost just by picturing that alone.

I decided to take a little touristy boat tour through the canals for 9 euros (where the f is the euro symbol on my keyboard?). I sat down next to a girl who said she’s from Vancouver, who proceeded to tell me about her corporate job that absolutely went over my head. I thought she was cool enough to share a boat seat with for 40 minutes I suppose.

when I took the train back to Brussels after having wine and the best brioche with chocolate chips, I wandered around (clearly I do a lot of that). ate more random little bites and stumbled into my favorite little park in the city where there is always live music and people joined around. by live music, I mean men who pull up with a guitar and sing typically. but it always speaks to my soul. and I get emotional every time. I sat and listened, I watched, I took some deep breaths to take it all in.

later that night, I stumbled into a cool reclining wooden chair looking at the cathedral where I sat to watch as the sun went down, and I felt God smiling at me. I swear. on my walk back, I got mistaken for a local and that made me feel like I belong in a cool girl way. I even got gelato and the man shaped it into a rose for me. I saw more people singing but this time in the Grand Place, and I fell in love with life all over again.

all of that goes to say, maybe that was my most favorite day ever. but then, I can’t help but to think there was probably a day in my life that tops that. part of me feels like the best day ever should have included a cool accomplishment, like when I graduated flight attendant training and was really emotional about it, or ran 20 miles for the first time, or hiked a mountain, my first solo hiking trip, or my first solo international trip, or something. but maybe my silly little 24-hour work trip to Brussels where I took a train to Ghent will sit there for now. and I won’t rush the next best day ever. somehow there is something really awesome about every single day, even the ‘meh’ days.

Dear Music,

You have been my first love, my most loyal companion, and my greatest storyteller. Before I even knew how to express myself fully, you spoke for me. You carried my joy, my pain, my anger, and my healing in melodies, in beats, in lyrics that felt like they were written just for me.
When the world felt too loud, you gave me rhythm. When silence was too heavy, you filled it with sound. You have never judged me for how I felt-you simply embraced me, wrapped me in harmonies, and let me be.
You have been my bridge to places I have never been, to people I have never met. You break barriers, crossing languages and cultures, bringing souls together in a way nothing else can. Through you, strangers have become family, and stories have been passed down like sacred traditions.
Whether I was dancing in joy, drowning in sorrow, or standing in quiet reflection, you have always been there. Guiding me. Holding me. Reminding me that I am not alone.
Thank you for your presence in every stage of my life. For being my escape, my therapy, my celebration. Thank you for giving me the courage to tell my own stories. I will always love you. I will always need you.

Forever Yours,
AmbitiousBMarie

In the quiet embrace of the fog, the world is transformed into a dreamscape; shrouded in mystery and wonder.
It is a sanctuary to God’s creatures who roam and call it home,
and to souls who either melt in the embrace of natures hug, or thrive in it during a hunt in the wilderness, venturing deep into the veil of fog for prey.

Today, I stepped outside to experience the serene air kissing my skin, the fog blanketing the woods in front of me beckoned me with its allure,
my eyes also catching the gold and brown leaves, whispering tales of autumn’s end.

I look to see the bare branches reaching out like fingers yearning to touch the misty air,
and in that fleeting moment, suspended in time, I captured a glimpse of the desire that emanated from the trees.

Its a reflection of my aspiration, to embody that quality in my life, to reach out and languish into the fog, being alive yet one with it would be a dream— as that would mean I would be forever trapped in a state of serenity or peace.

And if dreams become reality, then I implore whoever sees me fading into foggy stillness to keep from reaching out and let me be,
for in that moment I am happy,
I am free.

I will remember November 18, 2024 as the day I not only celebrated 39 yrs on this planet but a day I became a self publishing author for the very first time.
One random June night, I got this idea as I was watching Bob’s Burgers to write a book. I’m an avid journal writer, so the joke between siblings was they’d have to wait til later in life to read those journals. I told this sibling I’m thinking of finally writing out my story. Write a book. A memoir. Share my story of how I took my childhood traumas and used them as my motivation to heal. To break those generational cycles. To share my mental illness stories of how I don’t let anxiety and depression dictate my life.
Fast forward to today, my book is selling like hot cakes. Within the first 24 hours, my book sold over 30 copies. These last 30+ days, I sold 99 copies. One shy of 100! My message inbox is full of positive feedback. My text messages bring tears to my eyes. This heart of mine heals with each word these eyes read!
If you asked me a year ago if I would be an author, I would have told you absolutely not. I would have told you my story isn’t impactful like I think it is. I would make the remarks of whose going to read a memoir about healing and finding one’s voice. I’d just respond with such negative feedback. Haha!
Here I am, sitting at my weekend job writing about how I became a self publishing author on my 39th birthday. How I took that joke amongst siblings and made it a reality. Reading more positive feedback on my memoir about healing and finding my voice. Here I am, writing to you, the reader, about how you too can write that book about your story. About taking those traumas and turning them into motivation to heal. Inspiration for others on the same journey.
Let me leave you with these fancy words that were spoken to me at the beginning of my book process: “If you continue to joke about something, it is no longer a joke. It is a dream. It is your reality!”

dec 11
a journal on familial bonds.
the oddities in which the preservation of familial bonds has brought is an interesting notion worth unpacking. I keep one pillow sheet on a pillow here, and one there. as the matching florals bring comfort to both homes I go to. I use the locker in the gym of my father’s favorite number, as the unification of father and daughter presents itself in strange ways. but I somehow feel closer knowing my stuff is protected by him despite the distance. 3:33 is my favorite time to present each day as my mom and I share that in common, and I’m under the belief it keeps us closer. every store I go into, I’m on the lookout for new hello kitty themed items, as my sister recently took on the fascination for the cartoon that made an impact on a portion of my childhood too. as she grows older, our age gap seems to close, as if to be an illusion, as we begin to look more alike. I love that we carry each other with us every day.

I spend the days looking for ways to feel closer to my family, even though our distance keeps me humble.

growing up, I loved sitting in the kitchen with my dad as he would cook dinner. I learned a lot during those times. funny enough, my favorite thing I learned to cook from him was his scrambled eggs in the bowl passed down from my grandma. it’s the scrambled egg bowl. one day I’ll buy a bowl just to scramble my eggs in, but for now I’ll reminisce on that bowl knowing my eggs will never scramble as well as they do inside that bowl. he also taught me the importance of the preparation the night before. for anything, but specifically, he loves to prepare his coffee the night before for an easier wake up. I think a warm cup of coffee ready to go is a good reason to get out of bed in the morning, too.

I go through days holding onto random parts of the things that remind me of family, of the love we hold. for familial love is not one easy to replicate. and I don’t bother to replicate it, I spend my time attempting its infiltration into my daily life. to bring the love with me.

I am a mosaic of the people I love. pieces of them make up me and falter a greater sense of who I am. as I am only me because those who brought me here.

Dear Unsealer’s,
# What’s your love story
part 1

Originally Recorded February 2020 By: Taylor Vance
Our love Story began over a year ago at a point in my life when I thought my ability to love someone else was gone. Being a widow with two children was what I believed the rest of my life would always be not ever knowing or sharing true love again. This love came on blind, unexpected & pure. Not out of pity & without judgement which brought light back into my life. He gave me the opportunity to see and experience things I only dreamed of, but thought I would never do. Him well he was a Gypsy roaming wild and free, me well I was the pioneer never to venture too far away from home or family. He was excited to show & share his ways & worldly experiences with me mostly, more than he even knew he reminded me to LIVE & LOVE life again. I am very thankful GOD sent me a good man with only good intentions for myself and my children. I found this quote that resonates with me how I feel our relationship came to be & is the base of which we began on January 5,2019.

“Maybe she needed HIM to show her how to LIVE and Maybe he needed HER to show him how to LOVE”

ONE YEAR DOWN, FOREVER TO GO

love Taylor 2-2020
Taylor & Shane 2019

NOT THE END, INSTEAD TO BE CONTINUED…….