39
Thirty-nine was the quiet masterpiece. The best year! No lease, no routine, no standard loop. Just seasonal work, state lines, and Alaska’s wild, heavy air blowing every tiny fear right out of my chest. I said yes to a million things I’d never done before, chasing breathtaking landscapes and views that made me hold my breath just to take them in.
I lived raw. Loved hard, skin against skin, under skies that didn't care about my plans. Met strangers who felt like old friends, read a mountain of self-help books, and finally went to war with my anxious attachment instead of running from it. And the best part, traded the foggy nights for total, uncut clarity. Waking up clean, holding my own wheel.
The sting is that the brightest things didn't stay. The connection, the story I wanted to keep, it was just summer lightning. Hot, blinding, and gone before the thunder even settled, but those souls came to teach me, not to stay. Sucks sometimes but I’m keeping the fire that got woke up inside me. Happy 40th to me.
NM