Soot

I've lived on top of my life for a very long time. That is to say, I've floated above or skirted around it. I suppose actually that I have never really delved much beneath the shiny exterior of the day-to-day of it. I have always prided myself on my ability to be unaffected by major events, non-reactive except in controlled environments. It's funny how some things make us look down into the inside stuff. While I would never, if shown before hand, chosen to experience the last two years I cannot be anything but gratefully changed by them. Life is dirty and messy in a one-year-old-experiencing-cake-for-the-first-time kind of way. It's the hands on, "that mark won't come off" kind of life I would so eagerly choose to live now. It's the glory of experience, both good and bad, that make us who we are. And while living a smooth life is good, there is something to be said about seeing your best laid plans go up in smoke. Invariably I find myself amazed at the beauty and better paving of the path that lay ahead after the smoke clears and the fire dies out. In fact, I would say scorched and sooty paths might be the best for walking.