I found a parking spot. Pulled in. Walked down the street to the light. As I was walking across the street to the coffee shop, a creeper with a bald head and a smile that was half-knocked out, called out from his van, "You have a pretty smile. You have a good day young lady." Thanks mom and dad for the thousands of dollars you spent on braces. Worth it.

I made it to the coffee shop, walked in, and began analyzing. Paint color: green. Soft, organic green. Point. Went up to look at the menu. Coffee that doesn't cost an arm and a leg. Point. Ordered. The barista asked if I wanted medium or dark. Point. Coffee is fair trade organic and comes in a glass mug. Point. I slipped into one of the natural wood and black chairs and began to write.

When I write, I process life. When I talk, I process life too. However, it never sounds as eloquent when it is spoken as it does when I am letting the letters onto a page.

When I am walking through life, I often narrate in my head as if I were in a book--or rather, as if I were writing a book about my life. In this way, I am observing everything around me. The aesthetics of my surroundings, the people I see, everything tactile about my experience.

For some reason, over the last year I have written less than I have in a long time. In some ways, I think I have been living numb. Nothing hurts too much if I don't think about it. And writing requires thinking about it.

Now, my life isn't in shambles or anything. And I am still thankful for so much. There have just been times over the last year when I have felt alone, unsure, and unmotivated.

Life is changing. And change is really difficult for me to swallow.

At first, I get really excited about it, like a kid on the side of the swimming pool about to jump in. A kid who has just spent an hour putting on sunblock, goggles, and orange arm floaties and thinks that the next thing is going to be the best part yet. And then she jumps in and finds out that water gets up her nose and the experience is fun, but involves more hardship than was expected.

You see, I am big on expectations. I can stay particularly positive about an experience for a very long time.

In the last few days, I have been thinking about a quote that someone said on my RA retreat in college on the grassy knoll at Mackinac Island.

"Don't have expectations. Be expectant."

May I be expectant as I look toward the fall and whatever the new season will bring.