a string of sad sentiments, strung together clumsily from a seat I fought to keep that I’m not sure I want. we are the adults now, picking our battles, forging our way through tuesday nights. we choose late round-tables with friends over sensible suppers, encouraging each other to stride boldly onto the battlefields of our first-world problems: self-acceptance, drive, whether we are being true to ourselves, the Things We Want To Make Happen Before We Are Forty. knowing it’s all enough and knowing we can never be full and it will never be enough, in the best of ways.

we are the adults now. grown-up fangirls and fanboys chatting offhandedly with our idols in the grocery store. because we live here now. we take good care of our cats. we trudge through the dating game like jaded teenagers. fate decided, birthday cake for dinner, strippers to celebrate spring… we have those bachelor refridgerators one day, and family suppers the next. our shoulders are soft for the offering, our backs are strong from the work. we make it through the dark. we make plans on easter that don’t have anything to do with easter. we play dress-up when we run out of clean laundry. making mixes, sneaking glances, clutching hands in the front row, learning just today that we really are all tourists.