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  • Writer's pictureErica Breau

choose your own adventure

Oh winter, must you cling so tightly.

How I yearned for you. Now I yearn for the sun to kiss my skin, while birds chirp and bees buzz lazily.

Please forgive my ever changing heart. 


I fear I am searching for happiness in spring, this searching is futile. Happiness will not magically appear at the end of this winter journey. Happiness lives in my breath, my senses, my heart, in the slush, and the grey. I know happiness lives in the present, but I don’t always choose it.

It’s more than just searching for happiness though – there is a waiting that’s happening inside me. What of this waiting… what am I waiting for? Maybe if I remove all the barriers I’ve created, I will stare happiness in the face. Wait, what if I take happiness off it’s pedestal? Yes. 

All this thinking – I’m not even un-happy.

drab (3 of 3)
drab (1 of 3)
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