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A Year With You's Been Worth It

One year ago today, I wrote this, and my life changed.  It changed a lot.  And it hurt while it changed-- also a lot.  Like all major remodellings, this business of knocking down interior walls and restructuring the roof was necessary to rebuild, to expand.

After standing beneath the seats of Block O for the third quarter of the OSU-Wisconsin game instead of prowling the sidelines by the Band as planned, listening to the thudding echo of the percussion, feeling the concrete heave, and watching the metal brackets bend, I am more apt to learn from the moment I'm experiencing instead of fretting over where I "should" be.

After watching one candidate haul a mellophone up and down the hashmarks of a football field with people younger than her grandchildren, I am rethinking what my later years will be like.  They will be stompy.

After hearing a horn player shout my name from across the field just to administer a hello wave, I am reconsidering what the bullies who made my grade school years hell really knew, if they ever knew anything.

After seeing a nineteen year old's entire body heave with sobs after he was cut from the Band, I am grateful I'm not nineteen anymore.

After pouring a single glass of wine in four mintues into an empty digestive system because I'm exhausted and creative-adrenalized to the point of not needing foord, I am not doing that anymore.

After watching a twenty-one year old Drum Major who had been training for the position half his life walk quietly off the field at the end of his term, I am reconsidering my knowledge of heartbreak.

After watching women smaller, shorter, and slighter than I am chairstep in perfect time with their male counterparts, I am proud to have a uterus. 

After a year of their rituals, their sorrows, their surprises, their anger, their support, and their music, I am... fuller.

And I am going to to my best to give them the words their lyricless world deserves.

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