Sunrise at Monterey Bay, California


It always seems to happen; I never know how I’m going to feel. I was surprised the day after we got married by how good I felt and was struck entirely off guard when I saw my first album credit. Of course, this time, I knew there would be improvements, like we’d no longer have to hear the t-word ten thousand times a day, but I didn’t realize the grass would appear a brighter shade of green or that a starry night could feel this peaceful.

And I couldn’t grasp how relieved I’d feel when the unstable no longer had access to the eternal codes, or that I’d have more energy or hear a new bird species singing in the neighborhood or that a friend would shoot par for the first time in his life.

We all knew about the on-day-one executive orders, but I didn’t realize this scratch of a pen would come with such optimism. And I couldn’t comprehend how much faith a twenty-two-year-old poet could instill in the universe. I should have known, but it’s always tricky to know how I’ll feel until something provides contrast. All in a day.