Friday, July 16, 2010


I've found a reserve of pockets behind my heart. I think most people must know they are there in them as well. These are the pockets in which people hide their secrets. I don't keep secrets, and so I've never had a need for pockets. I share all I have with the world around me, as though my pockets have holes in them and all my pebbles fall out, no matter which pocket I put them in.

But I've found the pockets without holes. They lie behind my heart and hide there. They are protected by the thickness of my soul and shielded by the passion of my heart. But they are empty. I've found that I can tuck stories into them and keep them there safely. I can protect them, hide them, from the world, and from myself. I can pull them out, like well loved photos, examine them, and put them back. No one else need know they are there. They are just for me.

I think my life's journey thus far has been without the need for pockets, and in that way I have written a story on the world. I cherish that innocence, that naivety, that passion. But now, this my 26th year, has brought on a joy for pockets and what I can keep in them. So that in another 26 years, I can pull out the tucked away photos and gems kept in my secret pockets, and write a bigger story. One not yet shared, but waiting close to my heart, to get close to yours.

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