Spring in Sydney.
Your story isn’t calm.
The road has been chaotic at times filled with detours, pain, and loss so sudden, so soon. Sometimes the bliss was so elevated your heart could hardly hold it—it was maddening to have, and then to lose.
You learn soon enough that it hardly goes as planned—gentle, easy, and smooth, but that is what makes you fascinating. You have something to tell. Something you’ve walked through. Something wild. Something courageous. Something true.
You’re made of stories within stories within even more stories. Those quiet depths of you.