Flower Girl

I want to be a flower girl again. All my womanly bits oozing out of a frilly white dress as I sashay and clack in my shiny white tick-tack shoes. With all the excitement and zeal, exuding the confidence that this wedding, this moment, is wholly about me despite what the invitation stated.

When it is my turn - delighted, I sling the petals off the side of my basket with no regrets as I decorate the aisle behind me.

Yes, that's what I want for myself.

I don't want to miss my moment.

I don't want to hoard dead flowers.

I don't want to press them in my scrapbook to memorialize their beauty.

I want to gracefully part ways and be at peace with them adorning my path and past.

Things, people, and ideals that are no longer rooted, or serving us - can we make a pact today that we will try our damnedest to fight the urge to cry over dead flowers?

Instead, we will relish in our moment. Realizing that the runway is much too short and we are much too fabulous to waste our luster, tears, and time. Not focusing on the death of the flowers, but making the conscious decision to shed and to salvage, to shed and to move on, to shed and to shine.

Though the strides aren't always easy, the petals beneath our feet have brought us one step closer to who we want to become, what we want to accomplish, the lessons we need to learn, and the love we can so deservingly discover in ourselves and others.

Goodies

She's Gotta Have It:  Just My Type!

Pregnant Pause:  Are You Burnt Out, Baby?

Cravings: Maybe You Should Get a Brazillian

Body+: Better With Time