Thank You, Cold Tangerines.

After years of hearing about the book Cold Tangerines, I finally read it. From the moment I read the preface, I knew it was a divine appointment for this book to be in my hands. The author’s story and desires reflect a lot of my own, and it’s like I’m reading a letter from my future self, best friend, mentor, and older sister I never had all in one. Her writing style fascinates me. The metaphors she uses are simply profound--taking comparisons so out-of-this-world and one-of-a-kind that blow my mind while also making me think, “Wow, that’s so easy to understand.”

As I read her book, chapter by chapter, I started to see my life and memories as “chapters.” The simple and mundane but, again, profound things that somehow have occupied space in my brain for, in some instances, over twenty years. These are the things that I would never share in conversation or have written about (until now) because of their seeming meaninglessness. But what I understand now is these memories and moments that my mind rehearses and my heart craves are the moments that make me who I am. These moments have stayed with me and shaped me like no other. They are profound and simple moments, some carrying both attributes and some one or the other.

Writing about things like blue skies, beach trips, our family farm, holidays, a good cup of coffee, birthday parties--the things that not many would put pen to paper to write about but the things that we love, appreciate, and remember constantly.

One thing I know for sure: I want to do my best to capture these moments in the written word. I applaud Shauna Niequist and celebrate her dedication to everyday celebration because it has encouraged me to fall in love with moments and writing all over again. Painting the verbal picture of my mental happy places will not only do my own heart some good but will also allow unseen and unknown parts of me to live on for generations to come. When I’m no longer on this earth, I don’t want my children or grandchildren or great-grandchildren to wonder who I was or what I cared about; I want them to have proof from our relationship, but in the event I’m unable to have a relationship with them, I want them to know me through my written words. I want them to see my vision. I want them to feel my emotions. I want them to dream my dreams with me and live my past with me by my side. 

I want them to experience what makes me happy, excited, and joyful. I want them to cry with me over what breaks my heart and spirit. I want them to know me, preferably from their own experience, but if that’s not possible, then from my own.

So here’s to a new chapter (more accurately, chapters) of writing because it makes me feel good. Writing because there are things worth documenting, remembering, and celebrating. Writing because the memories flashing through my mind are beautiful and deserve to be enjoyed over and over again like an old VHS tape that’s been reversed so much it doesn’t work anymore. Here’s to writing about the past, present, and future. Here’s to writing for my future. 

Thank you, Cold Tangerines, for the refreshment of fresh perspective. I don’t just write to share stories; I write to remember them.