140. Complete this thought: “Today I hope…”
Today I hope you get that call, that letter, that email you have been so desperately waiting for. The one that will change your life. The one that says you were accepted to your top choice university. The one that says you’ve been hired. The one that says you’ve been approved for funding for that research project. The one that says a donor has been found. The one that says you’ve won your battle against your body.
Today I hope you meet the love of your life. That your chance encounter leads to a beautiful future filled with joy and wonder and laughter and frustration and tears and chills. That they make the sun seem brighter and water taste crisper and words fail you because surely our languages do not contain the words for how they make you feel.
Today I hope you pause and take the time to look around you at the beauty that surrounds you. That you can comprehend the wonder that is you in that moment. Because you are so wonderful. And you are going to do amazing things.
The world might seem dark and cold and unforgiving at times. It’s ok to feel like you are not enough. Like others are miles ahead of you or doing more important things. But I hope you don’t let that discourage you. Because you are enough. You are so much I can’t even contain my excitement for what you are.
Today I hope you finally see yourself as I see you. A galaxy made flesh, terrifying and awe-inspiring, untold possibilities waiting to be discovered. At the center, you, shining brightly. My god, how you shine. Your light stretches ever outward, toward the future. The world may seem dark now, but someday it will rejoice in your light. If you listen closely, you can already hear it. You are already that powerful today. I hope you see it.
141. Describe your memories of a piece of furniture from your childhood home.
When I was a kid, the second house we lived in was an old colonial. On the first floor, there was a central room we called the “library” because of all the built-in shelves along the walls that mom had filled with books and movies. It was open to the living room and dining room, but it also had these big windows at the center that looked out to the side yard and the hedges that separated our yard from our neighbor’s.
There must have been other furniture in the room, but the only pieces I can really recall were these big blue upholstered armchairs set at an angle towards each other and in front of the window, with a lamp on the table between them. The reason these chairs stick out so much in my mind is that we were often made to sit in them as punishment.
The Time-Out Chairs were usually reserved for major grievances like screaming at each other, pulling hair, or biting. You know, normal sisterly squabble things. I remember thinking they were too big. I’m sure my mom or dad fit perfectly in them, but the chairs were large for children under 10. Sometimes we would climb on them to get to books or movies we couldn’t reach. Sometimes we willingly sat in them and played in them. But they were always the Time-Out Chairs.