I remember thinking: is it ever going to get it better.

I love the lives that I live. I tend to put everything I have into them. When I think about Maryland, I am taken back to summer days; the lostness of woods, possessing my imagination, sidewalks acting as a canvas;grass stained knees and my face decorated in specs from the sun. badges, reminding me of the time I spent outside.

When I think about Arizona I am taken back to summer days; the blues and pinks wishing me a good day in the morning, the only time cool enough to enjoy the outdoors. signals of a days end; the purples and reds telling me to have a good night.

When I think of North Carolina I am taken back to summer days; how magnificent it is to see green, smell fresh rain and watch what happens when the sky turns dark, then light, and watch how fresh rain creates a forest greater than my imagination.

I see the different seasons in me, consistently unafraid of stages of metamorphosis— a piece of Maryland I carry with me. I carry the desert with me as well, the harsh, unforgiving realties that bend or break you— a teacher in within its own— a gift Arizona gave me. North Carolina exists in me, the ability to not rot. Similar to the foliage I am engulfed it, I feel a sense of true growth. Learning how to flourish in the right ways, and feed into those paths.

Circling back to the on going question of does it get better? I would say so, yes.