the queen’s visit

04242026 written to Jacob and the stone

Lately, I’ve stopped mid-track because I realize I’m content with my life. Not getting by. Not this could be worse. No. As in,wow, my life is so cool. Am I EVERYTHING I’ve ever dreamed of? Yes, but truthfully not all at the same time. Looking at the present and being thrilled about my future (let’s not talk about the potential risk of a war, how vintage), it’s such a foreign feeling.

Back when I visited Chatsworth House, somewhere I learned that every estate or one of those proper houses recognized by the monarchy, as in, you know, a lord of whatever, has built a room for the Queen. Not because necessarily the Queen was going to visit, but just in contemplation of that ever happening. I never thought the Queen would visit my life. I’ve seen myself looking back at that particular night when I prayed to God and surrendered. Not in, I trust you, God (that would’ve been mucheasier) but in, I give up. I won’t commit any reckless behavior, but I’m okay with giving up. I’ll just navigate life with the bare minimum; it’s okay, God, I won’t bother you anymore. “I’ve come to terms with the fact that I won’t be one of those stories where the character achieves all her dreams.” It might seem even foolish looking at the problem from this side of the green garden, but baby 18-year-old Karla had been actively feeling nothing but despair and heaviness and little did she know it was going to extend its stay for another 5 years. Looking from her perspective, the only way I can compare it might be with an everlasting drought. Standing in the middle of the desert, no green in sight.

Yesterday, I was thrilled to find out the heaviest part of my year as a florist was going to pass. Don’t get me wrong, I love this new part of my life, but don’t underestimate how exhausting it has been. It’s more like I can’t wait to have time to write and process all my learnings, focus again on my health, my personal life, and give myself some time to rest. Next week I have my first holiday of the year (a beach wedding). My next thought was, I can’t believe I’m going to New York in September. Of course, the excuse is Harry Styles, but once again it was interrupted by a second thought. I’m going to be standing in front of THE Starry Night by Vincent. Oh dear, Vincent is a whole other topic.

But I wouldn’t have been able to enjoy this part of my life if teen Karla had given up. I owe her so much. I wish I could go back in time and give her a hand because we both know how heavy it was. There’s so much I would have missed. The only reason I get to make my dreams come true is because she gave me a chance. Because I think she had even just a tiny little spark of hope that we could get a glimpse of the Queen passing by. And while I don’t know the full plans of her stay, I do have hopes that she’ll have a long stay. That even if she once decides to leave, either she will return or the grace and memories of her stay will suffice for the rest of our time in the realm.