scandalous

I’m guilty of insisting on the kind of protection that warms the sky blue and filters off a dangerous burn.

Bit by protective bit, I have systematically rationed my voice, choked by the fear of criticism, or worse…failure.

In two weeks, I will sit among 17 other students selected to participate in what the college describes as an elite honors program.

Typing that brings about an odd blend of embarrassment and shame, making something inside of me want to apologize, wishing the font were extra small, like a whisper. I consider back-spacing the words out of existence all together. But it will be a significant part of my life and I will need a reference point, a beginning, the memory of right now.

For another year and a half, we will write.

Scandalous, I know.

Because this is me we are talking about.

The universe has a curious way about her.

As I stand surrounded by winter and her bare bones, wind blowing cold through our skeletons, we share a certain vulnerability and exposure.  Clarified and iced over– my fear of this journey bears down, the way winter rain clings to the knotty branches. But I have long since held the fear at arms length, knowing it no longer defines me.

I squint under a brilliant ball of light, smiling because there is an unearthed voice whispering,  ”You think this is scandalous? Scandalous is not doing what you love, Daune.”

And I’ve almost never been more in love.

Scandalous or not—do what you love, people.