Curlers, Coffee and Other Morning Deliberations.

 It was a typical morning, I walked outside to water the plants while I was waiting for my coffee to finish brewing. I stepped out barefooted and then had an amusing realization. I had just stepped out in my bright kimono (aka my circa 1950s flowered silk robe) with curlers in my hair piled on top of my head. Great. I am now that neighbor...I quickly looked around to see if there were any people I would have to avoid from now on and dashed in the house, clinging to my kimono. Fortunately, I did not spot anyone, and hopefully, no one spotted me.

Ever since I was a little girl I have taken a liking to vintage silk robes. If my memory serves me correctly, my slight obsession began upon meeting our Japanese exchanged student, Yoshimi, who lived with us for several months when I was about five years old. I recall her parting gift to my mother, a beautiful light green true Japanese Kimono. I thought it was one of the most beautiful pieces of clothing I had ever laid eyes on. In fact I remember sneaking into my parents closet when they were out gardening just to take a peak at that marvelous garment. While I have never had a true kimono to my name I have since acquired many "kimonos" of sorts. 



Others will tell you, as I will also say, that I am an old soul. This morning with the curlers in my hair, '50s robe on, early jazz music humming through my speakers, sitting in our 1943 yellow kitchen, and black coffee in hand, I feel as nostalgic as ever. 


Life is full of constant transition. Moving, meeting new people, going new places, and even daily change makes one realize how important it is to be oneself. To let you be you. It is so easy to let others define you, or to simply let the culture around you dictate who you are. But what about the talents and passions that are uniquely you? I'll be the first to admit that there have been times where I have been totally floundering in trying to be someone I'm not, or putting expectations on myself that are unrealistic and foolish. 


Moving into an actual "home" home has propelled me into a role in which I actually feel more myself. I greet and get greeted by the mailwoman each day, we get the pleasure of having friends and family come stay, and Sean and I can come home to a place where we cook dinner and then get to go paint and collage, or recently in Sean's case, wood work. This morning, in my nostalgic state, I can't help but reflect on the people, life circumstances, and history that has helped form who I am today. Oh how many people I have to thank! Life is truly about relationships. I have been blessed with incredible friends, family, teachers, coworkers, bosses, and with various encounters with strangers you meet that give you a slice of wisdom in the brief moments that your lives collide. 

So yes, I am an old soul, a hopeless romantic. I am constantly marveling at the mysteries of life, the sorrow and beauty of humanity, and I tend to think in metaphor. I like old floral prints, mason jars, early jazz, and my coffee black. I swoon over poetry and have the tendency to get carried away with how alluring the moon is or how majestic the ocean shore can be. I am not a stranger to tragedy and have a ferocity toward the unjust. I know I still have much to learn in life, which both thrills and humbles me. I am excited to be growing old with the love of my life but plan on always being youthful in spirit. 

I'm sure this morning won't be the first time I'll get caught looking like I belong in an era other than my own. But you know something? I think it is time to stop being so concerned about what others think and confidently step into the person that the Lord created me to be: an old soul that is learning, loving, and living life one bubble off center. 

*Above photo of Sean and I courtesy of Heidi Helser-Photography