XO-LP // Laura Palmer

A Love Letter History.

Dear 27.

Dear 27,
We made it. The world didn't end. Don't worry, but this 27th year ends tonight.
I'm having a hard time writing. And truthfully I'm not sure I have the right words for it. I've been typing and retyping this final post of 27 for hours. I keep getting caught up in photos and archives and stories.
This year has been magical.

I learned a whole bunch of new things. Like how to make Southern style creamed corn. Or that I can make the post office funny. Or that New York City will overwhelm and thrill you simultaneously. Or that a little mixtape swap can be a big hit.
I laughed so damn much. And mostly at myself. Like the time when I wore that weird (and inappropriate) tank top. Or the time where I did open mic night. Or when "Wildcat Den" took over Tampa. Or when I told Britt Daniel his song was just ok.
I'm not sure what I expected this blog to be. I started writing because I wanted a way to hold myself accountable (and I knew that at least my sister Jen would read it.) And that if I had a public list of to dos, I'd have to at least try to achieve most of them. It has become a place to document my life in it's exquisite detail. And here I am, a year and 141 posts later, a braver, calmer and livelier person than I was before.

I couldn't be more grateful. I feel overwhelmed by the kindness and the brilliance of all of these wonderful people in my world, especially after the big celebration last night. You've made my life so much brighter. And I mean this in a true and profound way. I feel more alive than ever.
Onto 28. I think it'll be great.
(And I'll be toasting to you with my Templeton at midnight.)