But what if I just started writing.

What if I stopped being scared that I had nothing to say, no reasons to write.

What if I stopped being frightened that I was faking it til I make it in regards to the whole prospect of having hope.

What if I took a moment to lay down the things that feel like are covering my face or weighing me down.

What if I admitted I’m terrified of being left in the dust.

What if it feels like all those around me have climbed mountains and crossed oceans while I just sit.

Here on this island, too petrified to make a leap again.

What if I told you that I’m scared I missed something; that I stood my ground in such a way that my stubbornness turned to cement and my legs became stone.

What if I allowed myself to write the words that describe how it feels like grief shifted my foundation

so much that I feel like I’m in a completely different house.

What if I don’t know what to say anymore.

And what if I think that my fires and trials and tears have separated me from all those around.

And what if I told you; I know that the words that come before this are things that aren’t true but seeped in a bit of truth that I hold onto tighter than I should.

What if I physically forced my fingers to not press the backspace because I know the lesson in all of this; I know the beauty in it is that in our stream of consciousness we find the nuggets of strength and the things that desperately need to be pushed into the light.

 

What if I’ve realized through these almost ten years of putting words onto a paper, in the wind, or on a Sunday, that the only way you can put things into the light is to turn the light on yourself.

 

Because what if I told you that I miss the person I was before I became the girl who lost her mom.

The girl who didn’t feel like her identity was tied to a grief.

And what if I told you that I’ve been spending my quiet moments trying to figure out how to keep walking in the direction off the island I feel I live on.

 

But what if I told you I know I’m stronger.

I know I’ve walked through those flames and valleys and the things all around them.

What if I just started writing because I know I’m more than the flames, more than the tears and more than the hurdles in my life that brought me to where I am.

So, what if I started writing about who I am.

 

I am Meghan Marie Reeve.

I’m a friend, a daughter, a little sister, a writer, a traveler, a teacher, a singer, a caregiver, a home.

I’m a Meredith, a tequila drinker, an adventurer.

I’ve been through waves and storms more times than I can comprehend.

And I’ve kept moving forward.

 

So, what if I told you; it’s time to build again.

Because it is.

With love,

Meg