My path is full of birds.

When you are dealing with adversity or the let downs that come across your path, but you also know that that's where you're supposed to be, then all the terrible things that come along have a place in it. As opposed to when you know you're not where you're supposed to be. Then, even the good things in life can seem meaningless. - Jon Foreman.

Just a very rough draft...

It was quiet in the outside world, aside from the slight pattering of rain on the window. I watch as the headlights of an old SUV illuminated the droplets on the streetlights, making a familiar sound as it wound through the flooded streets. The sound of tires through water always comforted me. I've never been quite sure why. I think on occasion that it might be that the sounds echo through my memories to times with my older brother and parents, and eventually my younger siblings as the years went by. I remember going to see Christmas lights with my whole family in our car, a thermos of hot chocolate and blankets to share. It was so cold, and the melting slush on the streets made that sound as we slid on through. Winter rain and snow is my favorite.

As the headlights shrank away outside, and the noise faded until I could hear it no more, I bit my lip to keep from crying. I was wishing that it was winter now...winter we were always so close. And now I feel helpless, hopeless even. I wish I knew my parents, wish I knew how to love them. But time has passed, and I feel so aged despite my naivety. Will we ever know each other as we were meant to? Mother and daughter, a bond that should never be tread upon. Father and daughter, such an important connection to have and to cherish, to strengthen and care for. What am I, that no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't keep our relationship secure? My parents are beautiful and loving people. How I long that I could have been compliant, so as not to pain them.

And God...I cannot help but feel as though he has forsaken me. I know his words to be true, he has told me he is here. Yet the feeling of abandonment sinks through the air around me. I turn to my iPod, music is a comfort, a safety. I press the power button, the screen lighting up, welcoming, the same sight I'm greeted with daily. The sound escapes through the speakers...I listen in deep thought. One of my favorite songwriters serenades my soul. The comforting words sink deep into my heart.

You thought you lost it and that I left you, stand up and face it, you know that that just isn't true.
Your name is always on my mind.

Musing over the words, I think about what I want my story to be like. I always wanted to matter, in my childhood I had dreams of grandeur and promise, hope and ecstasy. Through the years, tears, and many fights and fears, I have sunken into something very dark, very hopeless, a muddle of welcoming nights and bothersome days. What happened to the smiling little girl with the untamed hair, shinning as she told everyone she was going to be a pilot-author-missionary-musician-artist? Who said she wanted to speak to the homeless because everyone deserves to know they're loved? Sometimes when I look in the mirror, I feel like I catch glimpses of her. She's familiar and friendly, and I've known her since I was very young. And other times, all I see is an alarmed, dark-eyed young adult, not sure who she is or what she's doing.