turn in the road.

one year ago, scribbled in blue ink on a page i'd forgotten, "i know i consciously hold no future in my hands."

my god, how things change.

since then, i've met a man who i will soon call my husband.

i've graduated among some of the best writers in ireland.

i've struck out on my own and succeeded in some endeavors -- failed in others.

i know about making way in a foreign country.

i know more than two words in irish. it's a difficult language.

i know that wherever he is, he's snickering and shaking his head as i compare fabric swatches and bouquets.

i'm growing up.

next week, i'll turn 26 years old. i'll add another notch onto my belt. i'll look over my shoulder and see a few really good years, and a few tremendously awful ones fade into the distinctive filing cabinet of memory.

we do not become who we want to be... we become who we are supposed to-- who we have to.

we're not waiting anymore, are we? not for time nor love.

i'm not fighting anymore, just laying there and picking at scabs that don't even sting.

my ability to record has been maimed and rewarded ... so i'll talk about something else for a while.