I am who I am
I cry when I see an old man at the cemetery staring down at a headstone adorned with flowers.
I hug my friends and loved ones. I even kiss their cheeks.
I make cookies and share them with everyone I know.
I cry when I see anyone else cry, even on television.
I look at my hands sometimes and see my mom’s hands and for a moment in a very private place within myself I miss and love her.
I bite my lips and squeeze my earrings when I am nervous.
I have a panic attack if I have to speak in front of a crowd.
When I hold a baby I smell its sweet little baby head.
I lose myself instantly in a good story.
I am going to travel the world someday with my husband who is the best person I know.
I still sort of believe in magic and fairies.
I am a good listener and people find it very easy to talk to me.
I look at my sons and am humbled to my core that they came from me and they will be better than me.
I look back with awe and wonder, a little twinge of sadness and immense hope on my life thus far.
I really do want to be the best version of myself; I don’t care if it sounds stupid or idealistic.
I like to think that I am a realist but probably I am an optimist.
I am cheesy and corny and sentimental.
I am fun and impulsive and silly.
I am beautiful and simple and complex.
I am who I am.