It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

The wind is chilly and the moon is bright and full in the sky, begging for the attention it deserves.

The place is crowded with people and full of good music and the lights from the stage reflect on the river and it's such a nice place to be in.

And I'm in bliss.

I've got the world on a string. I'm proud, I'm satisfied, I'm welcoming experiences and I'm letting go of the anchors that have held me back for so long.

My skeletons turned to ashes when they got out of my closet and into the world.

There's no rush, there's no pressure. There's pretty lights and winter boots and sweaters that smell like perfume samples you steal at cologne stands in departamental stores. 

Then there's me: surrounded by nothing but liberty.

I feel new and complete. There's choices made with smiles and accidents that turn out being amazing surprises. There's comfort, there's joy. There's the promise of a great Christmas season and the warmth in my soul of my own approval.

And we're growing up. Out of the fooling around and into the happy, trustful exciting thing we've got, him and I. We feel real and we feel right. 

Cheers for the chances and the changes, the responsabilities and the greatness of life. 

—L.