I'm 19 years old now. Momentous occasions such as birthdays allow me to ignore the future for a moment, and pick through the past. They allow me to acknowlege that sometimes the turning of the page comes without us knowing it; it's only after time has changed us that we can understand how important certain things were.

My 18th year brought me a lot of firsts, my first blog, for instance. This little piece of the internet has forced me to search myself in order to share who I am with others. It's been one of the biggest growing experiences I've had. I learned to love without seeing, how to forgive and accept forgivness, how to ignore that which makes you angry if changing doesn't mean that much to you, how to change what can be changed and stand up for I believe in, and how to accept praise and critisicm. New-Age Nomad is part of me now, and I'll never forget my first blog.

I also found my first love. He proved to me my theory that the people God send us are never what we expect, or even what we thought we wanted. How else would they teach us? I could go on and on about his philisophical mind and his ability to put profound concepts into words that could cause me to stare into space for hours pondering fresh thoughts. I think, though, that what drew me in was his honesty, his making himself vulnerable. He told me of his elementary days when, on one lonely night, he clung to the chain of a porch swing just to have something to hold onto and calm his longing heart. He told me how he cryed when his daddy no longer tucked him in after bedtime prayers. He showed me his soul, and no one else has ever done that. It stretched me.

I bought my first car. I worked my butt off and finally purchased a '94 Ford Tempo while I was on my 30 minute lunch break. The green interior light reminds me of my mom, whose favorite color is reflected in all the mirrors. It's my baby.

For the first time, I voted. Two weeks before I turned 19, I got to vote for the president of America. It was my daddy's first time, too. I tremble just thinking about how I felt that night, not knowing if I would make it on time after work to have my say. I've rarely felt as passionate about something, and I could feel the tears welling up as I urged the vehicle to move faster. After pushing that big read button, "VOTE", a sense of relief came over me. There was nothing more I could do. I walked out of the building with a sense of pride and a false assurance that I'd changed something. I stayed up all night waiting for results, and when my man was announced to be president for "fo mo years" the next day, I did cry. We need him.

And now, I'm 19. I hope this year brings many more firsts, and many more passions. I hope I get my first kiss, and get my first apartment on my own. I hope God shows me new things, and opens my mind a little more.

All life really is is a series of firsts woven together to make one, big beautiful quilt.

Trinitie