It was on that road and at that hour that I first became aware of my own self, experienced an inexpressible state of grace, and felt one with the first breath of air that stirred, the first bird, and the sun so newly born that it still looked not quite round.—Colette

 

Choices. Sometimes, it’s what to have for dinner, which color to wear, or who to leave behind. Often, I feel under the impression that even the hardest choices have a chance to play themselves out and be taken back. This is hardly the case. Once chosen, most things disappear. It’s like the game of tag, without tagbacks. You choose who to touch, you have no choice of who runs after you.

 

Would September Kate, with all her optimistic plans of ivory silk and etsy.com hair bows could have imagined what was ahead? What about October Kate, theconfused state who mindlessly held onto invitation designs, and promised herself, she would make him right. No… there was no foresight there. November disappeared for far too long, and December slowly emerged with angry vengeance, then built it’s ending with a sense of peaceful grace.

 

The grace I prayed for- somehow mixed itself with a clearer head, but busy, busy hands. I wanted to hold everyone’s hand lately. Everyone offered one. I had dates, and phone calls, and texts, and not one person said, “this isn’t a good fit.” They all wanted more- and for once… I didn’t know what I wanted. Eleven. Eleven separate people, charming, kind- amazing people- who’ve become friends or a date, or something in between, or someone to call at 1am when I couldn’t sleep- some more involved than others. Eleven people who I met since Josh. (Plus, three- rockin’ girls who I couldn’t imagine life without, now.) People who shouldn’t be grouped together because of how special, and cool, and amazing they are. People I can’t imagine not seeing.

 

And slowly, one after the other- I realized, we’re on separate paths. I explained and braced for impact. Some walked away, some took a break and some decided to stay because the 245Crosstown parties are way more than drinks with the group- it’s becoming a meeting of souls.

 

I guess it was the season. The want to touch, or better, or learn from everyone I came in contact with. It was also fierce independence that demanded for the first time in my life- I was going to ask NOTHING from anyone. I didn’t’ want to date them exclusively- or befriend them exclusively. It was on my terms, meaning- I could come and go as I please- but I would lay no rules. And we heard each other out- and friends of mine, became friends of other friends- and I’d like to think I built something. Because it was gain instead of loss… and the seasons had changed.

 

A few people decided to walk away, and as much as I respect it- and as hard as it is for me- I wondered… maybe this was my test. Could I let that text be the last? Would I be able to not try to be friends with everyone? I’ve come from such a people-pleasing place.


What happens to Kate when she slows down and turns the engine off—who might want to sit with her then? I had to make my choices- because my head was spinning and I was so caught up in keeping every inch of my life filled to the brim with everyone I’ve met. I was so fascinated by other stories, and the way others were going after things. I wanted to watch and learn and see myself in them… and I did.

 

And in this month of watching- I gave everything I could- to everyone involved, and found myself so fulfilled that I couldn’t begin to explain to you- it became spiritual. Connecting, even in the smallest ways- touching, listening.. growing and strangely- learning to let go.

 

There are a couple people who read this, who came into my life- and a connection was made, but it was like a firework- brilliant upon impact with the sky in blazing color- never to be diminished because it was only a small fraction of the amount of time in the whole. Brilliant, Brilliant Colors.

 

I fell in love with stories, and people, and maybe I fell in love with a busy pace that left nothing left at the end of the day.

 

What if we had to apologize for everything we had to leave behind. Each bite we couldn’t take off a plate with a full stomach, or each road we couldn’t travel because we were in a hurry. We all comforted each other- we all fed each other- and drove each other when the other needed autopilot. We sat in theaters, and orchestra halls- we closed our eyes and we merely practiced ‘being.’ Not everyone you meet will be around forever, my mother once said.

 

It’s like that game when you’re in a circle and everyone squeezes a hand next to them in rhythmic order, and it’s a wave of hand squeezing and slowly- people fail to do the game correctly and they step away. The circle becomes smaller and smaller and people stand on the outside looking in. It never hurts as much when you’re still squeezing hands. I was on the outside, I remember that too.

 

We’re all connected.