colors

This week has been full of the bittersweet. All within three days, I signed my letter of intent for my job here in Virginia and also received my passport- just in time to go to D.C. over my spring break to apply for my visa- which, of course, I don't have to do anymore.

I told a little girl today in that singsongy voice we (for some reason) use with kids, "green doesn't look good on you!"
can any of my friends tell me if...green looks good on me?

I don't know how I feel, exactly. I feel certain in my choice that it was best. What color is certainity? A steady, tranquil, blue? I feel excited, elated, giggly, and ready for the future, and I'd call that color bright orange, maybe.

There's that nagging sense of green. A little jealous, and maybe a little grief. It's so ironic that I mentioned below about all major choices carrying tiny strings of regret...and now I literally feel those strings, dangling invisibly behind me where ever I walk.

Loss, regret, and jealousy are heavy feelings. They can hit you at any time. They can hit you when you start cracking up in the car and reach for your phone, only to slowly pull your hand back when you remember that your call is not welcome. I remember, during a breakup, the time I missed him most was when I would leave work for the day, because that was the time I called him every day, without fail. It's those mundane, every day moments when loss hits you like a punch in the face. That is literally how it feels
every.
single.
time.
A punch in the face, a punch that says Imissyou and I'msorry and didIchooseright and ohmygodwhatamIdoing and doesthisfeelinggoaway...all at once.

I know I made the right choice. I feel strong and steady in that, and don't get me wrong, I am so excited. God has big and major plans for me, and I can't wait to begin.

I watched that kiddo's brother make swirls of color on his paper, faster and faster, until all the colors bled together into a swirl of greyish muck. If you looked closely, you could see wispy greens, bright reds, and soft blues peekly out of the curves of his swirls.

His sister looked distainfully at his colors and said, "He's making a yucky mess". I reflexively said, "Maybe he likes his mess. Maybe that's just the way he likes it."

Well....