I love that I don’t know what people really think about me.
Especially that I can never know, just as no one can ever REALLY KNOW what I think about them.
I love that I don’t know how long I have to BE patient with the process of BEcoming.
In particular, how NOT knowing seems to make me even more patient than I ever imagined BEing.
I love that I don’t know where the miracles are hidden along the Journey.
Especially BEcause that makes them all the more miraculous when they reveal themselves to me.
I love that I don’t know when the magic will wear off of this time in my Life.
In particular, when the words will stop pouring themselves out over me with such generosity.
I love that I don’t know if one day I might feel utterly and completely different about the things I feel so certain of Today.
Especially if it really is true that forgiveness heals what is broken into what seems to me to BE a bazillion little shreds of glass.
I love that I don’t know who I will BE when I am really old enough to truly embrace myself as BEing someone “old.”
In particular, if it could come in just a blink, overnight, like a flash of light.
I love you, Currie