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My favorite place on the University of Richmond campus was the astroturf field behind Keller Hall, where I lived my sophomore year. To me, it was enchanted. It revealed secrets. My dear friend Michelle and I spent many nights just laying on the cool, green astroturf talking about life and love (and other mysteries, for any Point of Grace fans out there). She did handstands. I did cartwheels. We watched the stars. Michelle had a special relationship with the constellation Orion, and we looked for his belt, and for Kassieopia. I never felt so free as I did laying, looking at the sky, sharing life together.
In my junior year of college, there was one of these nights of falling stars, and Adam and I went to the same field and watched hundreds of stars fall at all hours of the night. Stars are magic to me. My wedding even had a pseudo “silver star” theme if it had any theme at all.
I feel like such an old lady most of the time that the star-watching years seem like eons ago instead of a mere five or six years. I stay in, go to bed at ten, watch TV, go to church…it’s all good, but sometimes I have this glimmer that it’s not all right. I am extremely passionate, and some days I just think I am going to explode for having to live in the mundane. One of those things about being eternal beings, I suppose, that we are so suited for heaven and yet forced to reside on the earth and make the absolute best we can with that time.
This is yet another post I’m afraid to press “publish” on for fear of those who actually know me and read it and will think I’ve lost my mind. But these writings are for me, more than anyone. So here it goes…