I believe that I will be happy again.
Because I have to.
I believe in making things and hanging them up, in saving roses and handwritten letters, in well-earned dirty fingernails, and miniature candy bars.
I believe that someone who can make you laugh should know how much it matters.
I believe in candles, and rescuing bugs, and that people who hurt animals are going to hell, which I don’t believe in, although maybe I actually do.
I believe in poems, even though so many of them are terrible, and in the way hot sand and hot pavement feel under bare feet, the way the sun warms things all the way through.
I believe that people who aren’t loved will never recover, and in children, all of them, and in movie theaters, kindred spirits, full moons, and driving around with the radio blasting with nowhere to go, which unfortunately is one of those things only teenagers do, although it shouldn’t have to be that way; it’s our own fault.
I believe that kindness is character, that air-conditioning is mostly unnecessary, in ferries, and dancing, and making people feel heard.
I believe that gardens are miracles, that my parents would die for me, that humans are myopic, that dogs know how to love.
I believe in convertibles, and public transportation, which is allowed—both, I mean—and in libraries and champagne and that sometimes it’s okay to clean up by throwing things in closets and slamming the doors.
I believe in catching snowflakes on your tongue, and swing sets, and newspapers with coffee, and watching your team win, and doing the dishes a certain way, which is not one of my best qualities, but still.
I believe in words, and holding hands, and unmistakable chemistry, that it’s true you only regret the things you didn’t do but not true that what goes around comes around, which would make life a little too easy, I guess, but more fair.
I believe in islands, and bathtubs, and yellow rain boots, and that your heart can actually hurt.
I believe in getting up each morning, however reluctantly, and telling yourself you will get through the day.
I believe that falling asleep with your arms around someone is one of the best feelings, and in looking up, and in lying on the floor or ground or grass or carpet, which I do all the time, even when it isn’t appropriate.
I believe most people want to be good, because I have to, but that some people just don’t know how.
I believe that naps are important, although I never take them, and in finding furniture on the street, and in writing in pencil, and black ink over blue.
I believe in singing, that my children love me for all the reasons I most want to be loved, and that this makes me lucky.
I believe the story is always in flux. And somehow, for some reason, I still believe in happy endings.