OJ @ 5pm

I was flying to Portland, Maine a couple weeks ago. An entire row to myself for all my snacks & OJ at 5pm (a recent guilty pleasure of mine), to which my mother says I’m going to give myself acid reflux. The last time I was in Maine was less than a year ago. A cabin in a lil forest for Prance to smell for hours. Dirt roads, potato farms, a Walmart, and plenty of deer. And my heart felt so smooshy. As though everything I had seen and experienced and felt in just those few short months were all the same and as real as they had been in those moments. And it made me realize what moments do to you when you live them completely and extravagantly. They tend to just multiply inside your chest so the person you grow to be is compiled of everything and nothing you’ve seen. Moments become sparks traveling up your toes, proving themselves to be the heroes that pull you through to other majestic moments. They multiply to form momentum and inspiration. And you learn with those moments you let yourself experience, that choosing to be in them all, is just like breathing. The most basic and trustworthy thing life has to offer. So while some of the moments are discouraging and uncomfortable, and feeling them all over again proves to lend the same feelings, it doesn’t make that moment any less profound, nor does it make the other moments any smaller. It just depends on how you hold them in your chest.

I miss everything about Maine. Even the things that were uncomfy. And I think once moments are no longer held in measurement with others, they become easier to live extravagantly. Because, as they say, you really never know what’s going to happen.