snapshot. click.

I feel unsettled, like somewhere among my strive to improve my blog, I've lost my voice. So many quotes and lyrics and links. What do I have to offer? It's not about me, but I have lessons to offer, lessons that somehow, in my 20 years of life, I've picked up over time. Snapshots of pure joy, pain, love, grief, sadness, and peace. Look for things to start heading in another direction, even if it's a slight three degrees east and subtle enough that it can only be detected if you stand with your face into the wind, close your eyes, and breathe deeply. The words that lie within my heart are desiring to be released, not in a massive flood, but one by one like the leftover rain slipping off a waxy leaf. Drip. Down. Surprise.

Snapshot.
Five years ago. I'm 15 years old. Spring break. My parents are taking my siblings and I on vacation to California and Mexico. A cruise. We drive through LA and I stick my head out the window to watch the palm trees that line the roads. I'm disappointed it's no warmer than 73 degrees -- and slightly breezy. My first trip to California. And then, my first steps outside the U.S. We laugh because the stop signs say "ALTO." Our cruise ship stops a day at Catalina Island. We hike through the gardens and kayak along the shore. It's beautiful.

I didn't know it'd be my last family vacation. Nothing about the warm sand beaches and all-you-can-eat anytime-of-day soft serve ice cream hinted that by the end of May, in just two months, my world would be shattered. Turned upside down with no one to talk to. Within six weeks, my parents would tell me they were getting divorced. Click.