I remember being a little girl at the beach with my family. We hardly ever went to the beach, so it was exciting.
Standing in the waves was exhilarating. Then as they began to grow, a little frightening. They would crash into me, pushing me down in to the sand and pulling me down the beach with the tide.
I wouldn't fight it. The wave would come, take my feet out from underneath me, and cover me up. Swallow me whole. The water would rush around my ears, all I could do was ride it out.
Sometimes I feel like the little girl I used to be. Tossed around by a giant wave of uncertainty that I have little to no control over. Just waiting for calm waters.
But the truth is I do have some control.
People romanticize the human heart. Why is that? How can a muscle the size of my fist control so much of me? People say to follow you're heart, but so far it's only taken me into a wild ocean, unwilling head over yielding heels.
I guess I just have to ride it out.
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(p.s. not trying to sound dramatic. Just trying to take a queue from dear Hemingway.)
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