Kelly Dawes's Blog

Forgetting Paris - Now Published

Introducing my third book, Forgetting Paris. A coming of age story, that will take you on a journey filled with friendship and navigating adulthood. This book is self-published, with no official editor. So you'll experience my true unfiltered and raw writing. This book took about two years to write after starting during COVID. And then I dragged my feet publishing it. Sharing your writing is so vulnerable. It's like giving someone a first row seat to see your crazy imagination in action. 
I had so much fun writing this story. Thinking back to what high-schoolers and young adults struggle with. And what they enjoy (spoiler, there is lots of sauciness in this book). 
As scary as writing is, it's my passion. One of my greatest loves. I have the privilege to sit down and type whatever creative story my fingers are itching to tell. 
Cheers to my latest book and hope you enjoy Ada and Mateo as much as I enjoyed writing them. Purchase Kindle or paperback version here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0D1MVQM9D

Forgetting Paris: Meet Ada & Mateo

I fell in love with these two characters, Ada and Mateo, as I started writing this story two years ago. I may have been quiet from posting publicly, but I haven't stopped writing. I will never stop writing until my last breath on this earth. 

Forgetting Paris, is a story about staggered love - two friends' messy journey through adulthood. Join me and dive into this beautiful story that I will slowly unfold. Cheers.

Present Day: Ada

 

 

I had sworn off smoking a year ago. My ex-boyfriend used to smoke, and I found myself slipping into the habit more and more throughout what I liked to call my spiraling out of control breakup. Even after all this time had passed, I still frequently found myself walking past a small crowd of smokers - outside a restaurant, inside an airport in the designated smoking area, in front of a hotel - I would catch myself looking for a glimpse of him. None of my other friends or other exes smoked. Not one. Only my Nick had. My wild, selfish, art loving, sex addicted, broke, Nick. Looking back on it now with my counselor Becky, my relationship with Nick I realize was completely destructive chaos. It was a time I can only describe as wild, adventurous even, but filled with so much sex. I know that is one of the underlying reasons I stayed with him as long as I did. He made my soul feel alive when we were alone in my apartment together. It allowed me to easily forgive him for all of the stuff in between he was lousy at. Like everything outside of the apartment.

---

I was slowly walking down some street with my back away from Michigan Avenue, in clothing entirely too cold for the 10-degree weather outside - thin black tights, patent heels that were dirty and scuffed in places if you looked closely, a long black peacoat with a short and tight blue dress underneath.

 

It was 11:34PM on December 31 when I exited the bar, having no desire to ring in the new year with anyone at the Pops Champagne party I had paid entirely too much to attend. Instead, I chose the absurd alternative to walk outside in the freezing cold than brave another moment inside with loud music, drunk men in collared shirts putting their hand too low on my back and asking my name, and bubbling champagne spilling on my blue dress from elbows bumping into me. In my early 20’s, I would have been there until the place closed at 2AM, flirting with new prospects, or closing down the place on a Saturday night with a new boyfriend on my elbow to show off. How much had changed in just a few years between that New Year’s Eve and this one?

 

As I walked, I noticed now Erie Street from the green sign overhead, I realized it wasn’t that my world had changed much in the past few years. I had almost the same friend circle, went out on dates with similar types of guys and lived in the same apartment on Division Street. It must have been my perspective that was changing. I was turning 30 in just a few months, and frequently found myself thinking about that very turning point. Maybe, the smallest piece of me that had started thinking about this new decade ahead had caused me to walk out before midnight on New Year’s Eve, leaving my friends behind, hoping to slowly make my way - home? Where was it I was walking?

 

I saw the dancing bright red lights for a CVS pharmacy a block to my right and turned to head that way. If I wasn’t going to drink more, I figured how harmful can smoking be just for this one night? I noticed the usual blinding fluorescent lights through the windows on the street ahead and realized I didn’t want to go into a place that bright at this hour. Illuminating every imperfection on my face. No, there was a small bodega just one block past this street I knew of, that surely had to have what I needed. I kept walking, feeling now sharp numbness on my practically bare legs from the cold windchill sweeping through the windy city.

 

As I pushed open the glass door, a small bell rang. Without even looking at the name of the shop, I let out a huge sigh of relief to be back in the warmth. I heard a deep voice of male clerk with a frown say, ‘hello’ as I slowly walked past the counter, eyeing that they had exactly what I needed in the old dusty glass case the register sat on. I needed more time to defrost so I walked around the bodega pretending to look for something. I found myself reading some of the food and packaging labels just to kill time until my toes were no longer numb.

 

I clutched my lighter in my hand and fumbled to cut through the plastic on the package after finally paying and walked back outside feeling the cold air hit me like a wall and almost take my breath away. I removed one, put the rest of the package in my coat pocket, and clicked the lighter a few times before I got it to light my cigarette as I quickly inhaled it to my lips, returning my gloves back on my fingers. All I could think about was Nick at that moment and how I was the biggest hypocrite - always telling him, even yelling sometimes when I had too much to drink, that smoking was going to kill him and how awful it was for his lungs and how dumb smoking made him look. I laughed out loud to myself just then at the irony of it, as I did one of the very things that drove me the most nuts about him. He always promised to quit but I guess just never got around to trying hard enough. He broke so many promises.

 

I slowly started walking towards the closest L train stop knowing a cab was going to be impossible at this hour on New Year’s Eve, when I noticed a man and woman walking towards me. I avoided eye contact with them - I cursed the idea of anyone I knew seeing me inhaling something I found so grotesque. The couple was immediately next to me when I heard my name spoken so clearly above the wind, in a voice I could have recognized anywhere in the world.

 

‘Ada?’ I heard his voice ask again, ‘Is that you?’

 

I was too stunned to have the wits to put out my cigarette before stopping and turning towards him. But he didn’t look at the cigarette in my hand first and make a face. He looked directly at me and had that same sweet handsome smile on his face. He was as beautiful as the first time I met him as a teenager even though so much time had passed since then. I immediately threw the cigarette to the right of me, hoping it would land close to the small frozen snowbank.

 

‘Oh my gosh, Mateo, it’s you,’ I spoke smiling at him before noticing an attractive woman had her arm locked around his. I pushed aside the fear I had felt brewing inside me almost a year ago, when we had last seen each other.

 

‘It’s good to see you, what are you up to this evening?’ he asked before he saw the attractive woman on his arm look at him.

 

‘Oh, I’m sorry, Ada, this is Gretchen, Gretchen this is Ada,’

 

‘Nice to meet you,’ I said politely, extending my hand as both of us shook our black leather gloved hands together.

 

‘Ah - you’re the infamous, Ada’ Gretchen said, and I immediately looked at Mateo, wanting to read his eyes and understand the extent of what she knew about me. His eyes were locked on mine and I was lost on how to read them. Years ago, I knew that had meant, you are so beautiful standing there, I can’t stop staring at you. That clearly was not what he was thinking now.

 

Instead, I chose to say carefully, ‘Yeah, we’re old friends that go way back,’ figuring that could cover a lot of bases and not catch Mateo in any sort of lies without going into the full truth.

 

Gretchen reached into her jacket and looked at her phone, ‘Shoot, we are so late,’

 

‘Oh yeah, we are late for um - um meeting Gretchen’s parents,’ Mateo said, shifting from side to side. I still couldn’t believe I had run into him this evening.

 

‘Oh, well I don’t mean to keep you from your plans,’ I spoke as I looked at Mateo again and felt myself relax and absorb his sweet presence. The last time I had stared into those eyes was inside a hotel room in Paris. I wanted nothing more than to give him a hug in that moment, hold onto him in this freezing street, and whisper, ‘I’m so sorry I fucked up’ in his ear.

 

‘Can’t wait to tell them the news’ I heard Gretchen say, not fully listening to her speak and instead focusing on how beautifully perfect she was – perfect light blue eyes, the bridge of her nose was the perfect shape, and her long blond hair looked effortlessly smooth.

 

‘News?’ I asked only somewhat curious, still staring at the almost too perfect face staring back at me.

 

‘We just got engaged tonight!’ she let out almost a squeak as I saw Gretchen carefully take off her left black leather glove and extend her perfectly manicured and long pale fingers my way.

 

‘Matt proposed at dinner this evening, isn’t it beautiful?’ she said staring intently down at the diamond on her ring finger, seemingly still entranced by the new accessory.

 

I couldn’t speak or put thoughts together in my head. It was a modest but beautiful oval diamond stone on a gold band staring back at me. Haunting me. Teasing me.

 

I wasn’t sure how long I stood there staring at the ring, until I finally mustered the words, ‘Oh congratulations.’ I somehow found the phrase I needed to say, but didn’t believe it, even as I spoke the words, avoiding Mateo’s face.

 

‘Thank you, we are so incredibly happy,’ I heard Gretchen speaking again. Even her teeth were perfectly straight and white. I immediately had the urge to smack the smile off the face of this women.

 

It was finally then I said something I truly meant, ‘You are lucky to have found such an incredible man.’ I leaned over and gave Gretchen a somewhat awkward hug, realizing this was probably the polite thing to do, even if we had just met moments earlier. I then turned to hug Mateo. Maybe it was the combination of the champagne from earlier and the buzzing I felt from the cigarette I had just thrown away minutes before - I turned and slowly kissed him on the cheek. Looking back on it now, I realize a wildly inappropriate thing this is to do in our American culture when someone just tells you they are engaged to another woman, and you have a complicated past together. But I think I thought it might be my last chance to ever kiss him, so I took the risk.

 

‘Congratulations to you both,’ I said pulling away from Mateo and catching his dark eyes and tan face looking back at me. Confusion and love I saw staring back at me. I won’t ever forget how to read his face.

 

‘It was so good to see you,’ I heard Mateo say followed by Gretchen saying, ‘It was so nice to meet you.’

 

We started walking apart from each other and I overheard Gretchen try to say under her breath, ‘She will not be invited to the wedding, for the record,’ as I turned to look behind me.

 

With his hands in his pockets walking slightly behind Gretchen, Mateo turned at that same moment I was looking back and smiled my way. I don’t know why, even after everything we had been through, but I read that as a peace offering extended my way. Or was it something else?  

Girl in Riyadh

During a time when the entire world is not encouraged to travel - one of my favorite things in this sweet life, I have felt myself dreaming. Nostalgic dreaming back to some of the trips I've taken in my past. Stories that I've written down and never shared with the world. This is from October 14, 2016 after my first trip to Saudi Arabia. Cheers.
I find myself in the London Heathrow airport, for another long layover. My eyes are slightly burning with exhaustion, my empty glass of champagne was just carefully taken away from my table, and I wish more than anything I could take a shower. Yet, somehow I’m feeling refreshed and inspired. 
My hands can’t stop typing and working as I sit here at my computer looking at all of the planes sitting on the tarmac. I’m reminded of the restlessness spirit God instilled in me, to travel the world, meet new faces and places, and make the world a better place. I’m also reminded of the irony of how I continue to find myself traveling to the Mid-East. I’m returning from a country I never wanted to go to. A country I was terrified to travel to as a woman. As a woman who thought she knew how her importance was valued. Oh, how traveling has opened up my world, broken so many barriers, fears, and made me realize this. The same thing I realized when I was in Egypt. We all generally are looking for similar comforts in life - love, food, and happiness. It’s the same in each country.
I had one of the most exhilarating experiences while in Saudi. Upon entering this compound that probably cost around $50 million - an oasis in the middle of the desert, I was soon escorted to the female only section of the compound. Everywhere in that country it’s expected for me to wear an Abaya, a long black robe. I was greeted by two smiling women - our franchisee’s sister and wife. And inside that room, all of the women shed the Abaya and wore their normal clothes. Here I was, thousands of miles away, sitting in a room sharing Turkish coffee and dates, chatting with Saudi woman. Women who probably rarely have any western woman in their home. 
We chatted about family, marriage, work, and children. I showed them some pictures of my husband, my dog. And saw the sister’s wedding dress. We’re such different cultures, differing religions, and differing beliefs. But I felt love in that room. Women - we look for connection. We look for similarity to talk about. Or for areas of life to converse about. They told me I had a beautiful face and eyes. And similar to what everyone else thinks, debated the colors of my eyes. I couldn’t stop smiling the entire evening. 
We soon moved into the dining room, where there were several buffets of food. I had two full plates of food, soup, and dessert. I wanted to try everything. I finished my meal with a full belly and heart. I mixed up opening my soda can incorrectly, and ate with gold ware. No alcohol of course, and the men were in another area of the compound. But I met the children who smiled, shook my hand, and laughed with me. I would be in heaven living in that compound as a child. I would always want to play hide and seek, play in the greenery, or ride my bike. 
These women all travel outside of Saudi - some frequently, some not as often. They all know English - some more than others. But they gather with each other every night for dinner - sometimes lunch as well. This culture is focused around their family - their family is the utmost important part of their lives here on earth. I love that. Cousins, aunts, uncles, brothers, sisters, parents - they all spend time with each other almost everyday. The men spending more time with the men, and the woman spending more time with the woman. At the end of the evening, the girls gave me back my Abaya, after I asked them to take a selfie photo (that I promised not to publish - to respect their religion), and walked towards the area where the men hang out. I had more coffee and dates with the men. Shaking hands with many uncles, brothers, and our franchisee’s father. A true story of rags to riches. He has built an empire of wealth, and started with nothing. I still don’t know if it was common practice to have a woman in that area of the house - or if they bent the rules because I am western. 
Some themes of my trip: family, there isn’t much to do in Saudi, I would probably take up smoking if I lived there, there are so many food options, separate family seating for women & children, Abaya’s with the face covering are nice when you don’t want to put on any makeup, an intense class system of Arabs, Indians, and Filipinos, dates and turkish coffee, ginger, Oud on every man, prayer time five times a day (restaurants close too), religious police are relaxing their strictness, dry air, fancy cars, and more family. 
I know I will be back to this country. To be reminded that even though our religion is different, culture, how we dress, how we look - we’re still women. Women who want to be loved and love others. And that friend, is what we are called to do in this world. Open up our hearts and minds to differing beliefs.

Time

Sometimes you prep for the worst, and even though your mind is ready, your heart will never be. Your heart misses a beat when the unexpected news is shared that sends you into a whirlwind of emotions. But more than anything else, your heart is sad. Sad to hear this news, as a tear slowly drifts down your cold dry face. Your hand is numb from the wintry weather as you hold the phone to your ear, but you don’t even care because you’re clinging onto the words on the other end of the phone.
It was news we had prepped ourselves for in September when my husband accepted his new position, but a reality we denied ever coming true. His work hours for two months will make it rare for our paths to cross. 17:00 - 1:30 working hours, with Monday and Tuesdays off. It couldn’t be more opposite of my schedule. Wednesday - Friday, I truly won’t see him, except for if we go out to lunch. It’s a whole different world we are about to face.
My heart aches for our missed time together and is saddened by this disruption. What makes it particularly hard for me, is the fact that my love language is quality time. The key word in there being quality. What this means is we will have to be that much more intentional about spending the precious time we have together. Carving out the time we spend, and prioritizing it above so many other things. To add to the mix, I will be out of the country for my job for 3 weeks during the start of this new schedule. Now adding in complications of how on earth do we keep our dog on a sane schedule while ours is in chaos?
I know we’ll get through this. I know this will make our marriage stronger during this (hopefully) short season. I know this isn’t permanent. I know we’ll look back on this time and find so much comfort in where we are now and having been through that time together. But today is my day for being sad. Thank you very much. And dammit, I am going to be sad. I’m mourning our missed time together. The Saturday mornings sleeping in together with walks on the Katy trail, with Starbucks clutched in our hands. Friday nights sitting by the fireplace getting tipsy off of champagne to celebrate - just because life is worth celebrating. Sunday mornings braving the early hours to find the courage of dressing up and sitting in the church pews together. Dinners with friends circled around our table laughing as we refill their wine glasses. I mourn these missed potential memories.
Because truly, I’ve learned, that is the most precious gift we have together on this earth. Time. Time to sit in each other’s presence with no agenda. Time to laugh, time to explore this beautiful world. Time to eat a meal together around the table over a bottle of wine, with our cell phones tucked away in the other room. Time to be silly, time to be intimate. Time. Time is the most precious gift we hold, and the gift I value giving Brandon more than anyone. The gift I promised him on our wedding day and for the rest of our beautiful lives together.
I sit here on this cold day in Dallas. The sun slowly peeking out on the horizon, and still, there is a lump in my throat while I write this. I’m reminded how much I love this man, and how much our worlds have grown together. For the better. How much my heart is entwined with his. It’s not just me who is mourning my own selfish reasons of this new schedule we’ll have to face - I mourn also because he is sad. He’s my people. He is my family.

Starting the Secret Sauce: Three Lessons on Marriage

A huge thanks to Harness Magazine for publishing this article I am so proud and humbled to share. https://www.harnessmagazine.com/secre...

“I never want to get married.” These are the words I whispered only to myself as a little girl. The words I told myself as I left church as a teenager hearing a pastor utter phrases like, “a woman needs to be submissive to a man.” The words I told myself as I applied to graduate school, deciding I wanted to dive head first into my career and dreamt to be a successful girl boss one day. I told myself I didn’t want to get married as I looked to my own family and realized that children have never been something I dreamt of.And let me tell you quite frankly, I was very wrong.I look back on the little girl I was, and I am proud of how brave I was then. The courage was buried deep inside of me for years with words I never spoke out loud until a drunken evening in college with a childhood friend. We were standing in a tiny bathroom, which four messy girls all shared. The door was never locked as it was a constant stream of someone always needing to shower, put makeup on, or simply sit on the windowsill as I was doing this very evening. “I never want to get married,” I simply said with heavy makeup on my eyes as we sipped our low calorie vodka cranberry cocktails. The universe and fate had different plans for me: just 10 months later, I met the man I would marry seven years later, while studying abroad in the romantic city of Barcelona.I’m only two and a half years into this adventure called marriage. I look at it exactly that way: an adventure.A bit of a different spin on it than most women might think of marriage. I don’t have the secret sauce to marriage, and the real secret is no one else will. But each of us has the power to start a damn good sauce – finding the right ingredients to get us going and move to that beautiful simmer. But here is what I have learned both from my own marriage and listening to the wisdom of others in healthy marriages.1) Dream big. Each and every year, sit down with each other and write out your own ‘State of the Union.’ What do you want to accomplish this year? What’s your mission statement? As a married couple, in your career and as an individual. What do you want to focus on this year and make your rallying cry? Write it down and save it. Look at it often. This will get you through those days where the world feels like life is crumbling around you, or you feel like you’re broke because you have to turn down the exotic vacation a friend asked you on because you’re hustling to pay off your student loans. Revisit those dreams throughout the year and for those type A people out there, check the goals off as you accomplish them.2) Share. Have the courage and confidence to listen with your whole heart. One of the reasons I feared marriage as a girl and young adult was because I thought I would have to change who I was to fit in and be someone else’s companion. I slowly opened my heart up to my husband year after year, and have been rewarded with him saying to me, ‘I love that. Tell me more.’ We say those words to each other frequently, building courage and confidence to keep sharing with each other. To keep being true to whom we are. We don’t have to agree with each other. But we both know we can say some of our deepest fears, evil thoughts, confessions or dreams and know we won’t laugh at each other. We respect each other and all of our crazy ideas, which has brewed a beautiful confidence in me. A confidence I didn’t always have, which has allowed me to be exactly the women I should be. Never stop sharing your crazy thoughts.3) Date night. We learned early on the power of a date night. One night a week or every other week, we go out and don’t look at our phones, don’t check email or social media and plan an evening together just focusing on us. Usually this involves wine at our house and then dinner out somewhere. It doesn’t have to be super formal or fancy. It’s an intentional evening together sharing what’s on your heart and mind, slowing down for just a few hours and enjoying being together. These nights have made such a difference in our marriage and have been something we’ve each protected when other opportunities arise. So many times I’ve had to say, ‘Sorry, I can’t that night, it’s date night for us.’ And you know what? Your true friends, the type of people you should be surrounding yourself, your tribe, they will understand. They will support your decision to put your marriage as the most important relationship in your life.Writing about these three lessons, I realize I wasn’t looking for a man to complete me or a man to define me. A man to tell me how many children he wanted. A man to tell me what meals he wanted for the week or tell me no to a business trip. And the reverse was equally true – he wasn’t looking for a woman who wanted to stay at home all day, or a woman to tell him no to the next trip he wanted to take. No, we were both looking for a partner to run with towards our dreams together in life.Your story and dreams will probably look very different than mine and I love that. I love all of the messy stories behind each marriage. The beauty lies in what you make of the mess. My husband and I have taken these 3 ingredients above – dreaming big, sharing, and date night – and daily made them a part of our marriage. Building a sauce that isn’t so secret and filled with beautifully messy ingredients.

Off the Grid

Since my career began, I’ve forced myself to disconnect on every vacation I take. No email. No phone calls. Minimal text messaging. Minimal social media. How can I resist posting an Instagram photo from time to time? Other than that – I try to completely check out. But I’ve always given everyone a fair warning, usually starting weeks in advance. Usually I say something like, ‘When I’m out, I will not be checking email. So don’t try and find me. Let me know what you need this week.’ It feels like a very un-American thing to do. Completely disconnecting. But it’s a lesson I learned early in my career – to embrace the 10 days of vacation I get each year and truly unplug and recharge. Work hard play hard. 
I’ve never been faced with what has happened the past 9 days. For the past 9 days, I have been without a cell phone. Completely 100% unreachable via cell phone or text message. I left my phone in Chicago from a fabulous wedding weekend, and couldn’t get it back until tomorrow morning. I wish I could tell you that like my vacations, I loved it. I wish I could tell you that I loved being disconnected. I’ve learned three things these past few days 1) I am still awful with directions 2) I keep in touch with many of my friends and family spread throughout the entire country with frequent texting and calling 3) I love phone calls.
I’ve busted out my old cell phone, which is basically a glorified iPod. I use it for my alarm, and when I’m on WiFi (God bless Wifi), I can surf the web, check email, and send iMessages via my iCloud. Oh, but if someone doesn’t have their iCloud setup, they won’t receive my text or I might not receive there’s.

I traveled a few places I had never been before this week. What do I usually do for directions? I use the amazing Google Maps. When you have a glorified iPod that can only access Wifi, you’re screwed once you’re out on the open road. It felt like the 1990’s. Even though I couldn’t drive in the ‘90’s. I relied solely on looking at maps ahead of time. I even got lost one time and busted out my 2010 Garmin. It hadn’t been turned on in so long that the maps wouldn't load. Great. I got crafty and started taking screen shots of the directions ahead of time.

Three friends told me, ‘I thought you were mad at me since you didn’t respond to my text.’ And I’ve never sworn so much at a phone in my entire life. Words have come out of my mouth that I didn’t know I’d ever say at a device for it being purely ignorant.

I traveled to Atlanta today. A city I’ve never been to, and a hotel I’ve never visited. No cell phone the entire time. God bless my cab driver for knowing exactly where I was staying and a flat rate with square for my credit card. Even with my job, which is in marketing, I have a desire to stay connected with our franchisees and all of our social media channels. Facebook has been my sole friends via a desktop device or when my glorified iPod is on Wifi. When making plans, I’ve desperately muttered a few times, ‘Email me!’. It felt like AOL days with, ‘You’ve got mail!.

Why didn’t I crack sooner and break down and get an interim cell phone until mine arrived in the mail? Purely frugality and stubbornness. And you know what? I survived. Barely. I wish I could type right now how refreshing and liberating the experience was. But I missed things like calling my husband on my way home from work. I missed sending encouraging text messages to my friends. I missed calling my father on my own cell phone on Father’s Day. I had to redirect friends to call my husband for a party we hosted on Saturday in case they got lost. And damnit, I missed Google Maps and Instagram.

I’m curious how many texts, phone calls, and WhatsApp messages I’ll have tomorrow when my cell phone arrives in the mail. More than that though, I’ve learned that I truly am a part of a culture where technology allows me to feel connected to those I love. I live hundreds or thousands of miles away from so many friends and family members I love. And I use my cell phone to stay connected. It’s part of the reason I love living in Dallas. I feel connected even while being far apart from so many people. I love to see the smiling faces of my nieces and nephews from my phone. I use WhatsApp to text my best friends things that inspire or frustrate me.

I still want to turn off my cell phone for the weekly date nights with my husband. Or not look at my cell phone when catching up with a dear friend for drinks. Gosh, I really do love disconnecting from technology. But on my own terms. I’ll be making a lot of phone calls this week, and text messages to repair my radio silence. And life will go on. Cheers. 

Living My Dream: La Ciudad de Mexico City

I had a dream. Years ago, as I sat in a trivial English class with no windows in the entire room of my high-school, and I was instructed to write myself a letter for where I would be in 10 years. It was thoughtless work at the time. Mundane. However, I went through with the assignment and wrote myself the letter. Almost a year ago I was home in Chicago and stumbled across the letter and could not resist the temptation to open it.  Inside were the dreams of a 16 year old with dreams of adventure and love. Two words that make my heart sing in this world 10 years later.

I sit here on this stormy night in Mexico City, watching and listening to the thunder outside, as rain pours above my head while sitting at the hotel bar sipping a Malbec wine. Comforts of home swim in my head with each sip of my favorite wine. I smile as I look up to the dark sky. The rain pounds above me on the window above, and I realize the 16 year old Kelly would be proud of me. As a culture, we tend to listen to society and let it dictate what life steps you should take next. Sometimes we give into pressures of what is expected of us, and don’t listen to our heart. My heart has always yearned for adventure. I knew that as a girl when I would frequently run away from home. I was curious. I hope to be curious for the rest of my life. Curiosity is what makes my heart sing. It’s why I “pin” endless quotes on Pinterest about adventure. It’s why my custom artwork vibe at my office includes the word “adventure” on it.  I've taken risks this last year and strayed from what I feel society would have thought otherwise. 
Adventure takes all shapes and sizes. Adventure does not have to be traveling thousands of miles to see new places. I've learned this whole heartedly these past few years as my international travels slowed from what they used to be. I've learned that adventure is a state of mind. It’s saying yes to all new experiences. It’s putting yourself in uncomfortable situations with new people. It’s a risk. Adventure is about leaving a piece of you behind in everything that you do.

I sit here on this stormy night and feel like my heart is singing. Travel mixed with adventure ignites and stirs my soul.  I become a different person when I travel. I see more clearly. I see the big picture of life, something I crave and look for everyday. No, it’s not just the wine in me that speaks. It’s the free spirited little girl in me that comes out. I see myself as exactly God intended me to be when I’m in a new place, in a new culture. And you know what? It’s beautiful. My heart and soul are beautiful in these places when I travel. A girl who sometimes gets muddled when she’s in her day-to-day routine.

But here I am, in Mexico City experiencing new people, speaking in Spanish, and eating lots of tasty food. My work brought me down here on my first international work trip. Somehow I know more are in my future. The 16 year old me is cheering and clapping right now at what I've accomplished. The 16 year old girl said, “I had a dream” in the letter I wrote to myself. No, I am living that dream. 

Chapter 7: Courage

The following is a work of fiction, and a continuation of the previous posts, Chapters 1-6: 

Companionship has a funny way of lingering. Even hours after someone is gone, you can still hear their laugh, smell their sweet cologne, or see lip marks on the rim of their wine glass. I left the party after literally saying the exact and simple phrase, "hello, how are you?" to two other individuals. That was my quota for the evening. I left the party and immediately took off the tall shoes I was wearing when I walked into my bungalow. I hadn't worn any type of wedge or heals in what felt like decades, when my feet used to endure the pain of heels for hours while dancing.
I was walking the short distance to my back deck barefoot, already with a lit cigarette in my hand. I told myself I had earned it after this evening. The companionship of talking with the sweet girl lingered in my head. Sure, I had interacted with strangers these past few months - waiters at restaurants, grocers at the supermarket, tellers at the bank. But all of these people were paid to do their job and talk to me. They all had an agenda. I let out a long exhale from my cigarette and realized one word described my life at that moment: secluded. That's exactly what I had come down to Florida to do. Seclude myself from life. Seclude myself from my past, from friends, from family, from my secrets, from my regrets. And I had succeeded. I realized that Cindy stirred my soul. A small part of me wanted a friend to talk to and sadly, this little girl Cindy seemed like the most genuine person I had met in decades.

Others might judge me for how much I've smoke and drank. But my clearest and most profound thoughts seem to come to life in those moments. My current lifestyle of smoking and drinking was probably slowly killing me; but my seclusion probably put me on an even faster track. So judge away, but I chose drinking and smoking during that time.

I smoked a few more cigarettes that evening and realized my past could never be fixed. Never could I go back and redo conversations I regretted, impulsive choices that led me down this secluded road, or the people I had surrounded myself with. I didn't know where I needed to begin, but I knew I needed to talk more with this girl Cindy and remind myself of how to be that 15 year old girl again.

I woke the next morning with the most awful headache. This was only a result of being hungover. Oh wait, it was a result of getting drunk from too much wine and smoking what must have been half a pack of cigarettes. I didn't want to move when my alarm went off for my usual morning run. It's a shame the high you get at night can't last through the morning and instead you feel pain from your poor life decisions. Although, maybe that's why God designed things that are bad to consume in excess that exact way.

I mustered the courage to pull myself out of bed around midday and immediately made myself a large pot of coffee after downing two glasses of water that tasted like heaven. I looked over on the wooden kitchen island, and saw a scribbled note. I must have written the note the night before while in my incapacitated state of mind. There was a small word in cursive black writing written directly in the middle of the paper: courage. I smiled through the pain of my headache and realized my drunk self was a lot smarter these days than my sober self, and I needed to change that. I only had one thing I needed to do that day, find myself a bottle of malbec wine.

Start Again

With the new year, brings new perspective on life. Take a break from my book, and instead take a peak into my words and soul... 


Her head was a whirlwind of emotions. She couldn't think straight even though she was completely sober. She could hear her favorite song rippling in the background of her thoughts. She was smiling and felt like she could fly. So much anxiety had crept into her life this past year. So many responsibilities. So much loss, but oh, oh so much love had snuck in. She was a whirlwind of emotions as she looked out the window of her tiny apartment, the remnants of a vanilla latte still lingering on her tongue. It was more than an adrenaline rush that swept through her. Years of regrets swept through her brain as she closed her eyes and tried to leap free. She looked out that window and felt like a little kid again - just for those remaining two minutes and forty three seconds of guitar and lyrics. In that moment, she felt like the little girl she once was with unkept ringlets and dangling barrettes in her hair, dirt stains on her knees, and the smell of grass all on her clothes from being outside all day. Such magical years of life with no responsibilities or worries in the world. Such a sweet and pure life. She felt like that little girl on a swing for that brief moment and continued to absorb the lyrics buzzing in her head, "Come to me my sweetest friend, can you feel my heart again.." Songs have the power to transform the girl you're looking at. She's swayed by many things in this exhilarating world, and songs transform her. They fuel her soul.

She sat there and closed her eyes with a huge grin plastered across her flushed face. Her worries crept away for that moment, and she remembered the good in the world. She remembered the optimism and adventurous spirit God gave her in this chaotic world. She looked out that cracked window and continued to have optimism, hope, and love not for tomorrow. Oh no, optimism for today. We're all spoken to in different ways. For some, it's through music, others its writing or art. For the girl you're looking at staring out that window, it's music that speaks to her soul and fuels her brain to write stories of truth and speak words of compassion to others. 
She let her worries drift away - the same way the song faded from her laptop next to her, "We'll go home and start again... start again..." The words 'start again' hung in the air even after the music ended and the usual street noise crept back into the apartment. Her life wasn't starting over, no, the word 'again' lingered in her thoughts. She could be that six year old girl with ringlets and barrettes again on the swings. She could start again everyday with a carefree, loving, and optimistic spirit. And she would. 

Chapter 6: Malbec

The following is a work of fiction, and a continuation from the previous posts, Chapters 1-5:

I walked into the house wearing my black dress, and immediately was greeted by a sea of smiling faces. Everywhere I looked, it looked like fake smiles were plastered onto the faces of these strangers. I immediately regretted my decision coming here as I saw there was a dining room table where we would be seated this evening. I had envisioned the evening standing only – standing while drinking my cocktail and standing while I held onto appetizers passed around. I hadn't dared think of how I was going to endure an entire evening seated next to others. With that type of setup, it wasn't as easy for me to make a quick and early exit from the party. I was destined for failure.

"You must be Elizabeth, I'm Sue Ellen and this is my husband John," the woman stretched out her hand with her fake smile plastered across her face. So she and her husband had known her name, contrary to how she addressed their invitation. They looked like lovely and friendly individuals. I turned on the manners that had been engrained in me since I could walk and returned their greeting, "Thank you for inviting me to your home this evening. It's a wonderful place and smells great in the kitchen." I was surprised at how naturally the words had flowed from my lips. Manners were like riding a bike for me. I had met so many important people in my life. But what I said was true. The bungalow I lived in could be eaten up by this place as it must have been about 10 times the size. The walls were modern but mostly bear with only a few black and white photographs. It was a lovely home and I could smell lofting spiced butter coming from the kitchen where I saw someone dressed in a tuxedo walk out of carrying a tray of some sort of appetizers.

"Why thank you, we are enjoying ourselves this summer quite much and are so glad we could have people over to get to know our neighbors," Sue spoke back while nodding at me. Out of the corner of my eye I caught the image of dark hair being tossed over someone's shoulder who was much shorter than the rest of the crowd. She wasn't facing me but I heard that infamous laugh and knew immediately that it was Cindy. I turned my gaze and saw the girl turn and smile as she spoke with an elderly couple in front of her. I was only half listening to Sue and John make small talk in front of me, when I realized it was my turn to move on from the conversation, as they needed to greet new guests who had arrived in the door. I was grateful for the excuse to retreat. I immediately walked over to the area where a bar had been set up and saw my only options were wine and beer. Looks like I was destined for a wine evening, which might have been a good route to take, as I might have drowned in vodka sodas that evening from my nerves alone.

I poured myself a hefty glass of white wine and looked at the small crowd gathered in the living room. I didn't have any ounce of courage or strength to walk over and converse with any of them. I thought of Henry in that moment, and I felt a small smile on my face as I thought that if he had been here, he would already have made friends with at least 3 people and the host, John, would have befriended him and poured him a glass of his finest bourbon. I shook myself of those thoughts and instead caught sight of a door that lead to their back patio. Well, patio was an understatement. It was more of a back grand entrance – two sets of patio tables, a small garden, a swimming pool, and greenery lined this back area. If that weren't enough, there were tall strings of lights that illuminated its entirety. I stood in the threshold of the door to this outside wonderland and heard laughter from inside coming from the ever growing party. I took a sip of my wine and was startled when I heard, "It's pretty cool, huh?" I recognized the voice immediately, and was not the least bit surprised to see her holding a glass of wine in her very own hand as I turned to look at her. I had only met her once, but her presence felt like a breath of fresh air. Maybe it was relief knowing she was such a curious girl and would do majority of the talking. Or maybe it was a relief to escape the world of adulthood and all of the anguish I carried around and instead think back to the girl I was at 15. Or what was it? Gosh, I was a magical and carefree soul filled with so many dreams at that age.
"It is a wonderful backyard," I finally replied to Cindy, returning back to the present conversation rather than letting my thoughts run away.
"By the way, you never introduced yourself the other day," Cindy replied holding out her free hand. She was polite and social. I already liked her character and realized exactly why – she was probably a lot like me at this age.
"That's odd, your mother knew who I was – I assumed you did as well."
"Nope," Cindy replied sweetly.
"Hmmm –" I replied back looking back outside taking another sip of my wine.
"You don't like talking with others do you?" Cindy asked. She probably could sense I was dodging answering the question.
I let out a small sigh as I looked at the girl, collecting my thoughts on how to answer that question.
"I used to like talking with others" was all I could muster.
"What changed?" Cindy asked. So bluntly, so honestly. The true heart of a child.
"Me," I answered and continued with, "Age, time.. being an adult."
Cindy listened but I could tell I hadn't answered the question with what she wanted to know as there was still a look of uncertainty on her face. She slightly nodded before saying, "That's a shame, you look so beautiful in that dress and laughter with others is the best recipe for any party. Well, I guess, I think it's the best recipe for my life."
I suddenly forgot that I was talking with a just a teenager in front of me. How could she speak such wise words at this age? Words that I dreaded to hear but desperately realized were truthful. They were words I had mustered in my 20's. It's strange how some of the most pivotal years of your life, turn into your blurriest memories. That was what the '90's looked like to me. My twenties were the most life changing years, and looking back on them now, I could barely remember them. Yet somehow I was reminded of them talking with this girl, for what had only been a couple minutes.

I nodded at her in agreement with her statement and took another sip of wine while Cindy did the same.
"It's good isn't it?" she sweetly asked and I remembered how surprised I was that she drank wine at all the other day, but now after seeing a more thoughtful glimpse into who she was, it didn't shock me in the least bit.
"It's perfect because the Chardonnay is chilled slightly more than usual on this humid evening," I commented towards Cindy. Somehow those words again seemed to flow naturally from my lips.
"Is Chardonnay your favorite wine?" Cindy asked curiously.
"It's one of my favorites, but not my favorite," I replied already anticipating what her next question might be.
"What is your favorite wine," she asked. My assumption had been correct.
"My absolute favorite wine is a Malbec wine," I immediately answered.
"Malbec? What's that wine? Is it a red wine?"
"It's a red wine from Argentina. Known for it's boldness in unusual flavor," I replied educating her, while I thought back to the first time I drank a Malbec. It had been right after my 21st birthday and Henry had taken me out to a fancy restaurant in my small college town to celebrate "properly." It had been a perfect evening with the combination of drinking and eating too much.
"Sounds wonderful. We should drink it together sometime," Cindy replied. It's something a woman in her early 20's just starting off her career, might have said to one of her girlfriends. Casually and hopefully wanting to try a new type of wine, but needing the courage to do so with another friend. I hesitated not knowing how to answer. It was an invitation and it made me feel completely vulnerable. All I could do was nod as I took another sip of my wine.
"Cindy?" I heard Sue ask. She was looking for her daughter and probably least suspected her to be caught here in the doorway to their backyard talking with me.
Cindy saw her mom and waved to her, acknowledging she would be on her way over.
Cindy looked at me and took a tiny sip of wine, and said, "Duty calls."
I gave her a small smile and said, "Go make others laugh."
"That includes you, don't forget that," and with that, she disappeared back into the room. I sat there for quite some time thinking of how those couple minutes of exchange had stirred part of my soul. I had shut off the world for so long, that in turn, I had shut off the part of my soul that was curious. I used to thirst for knowledge and answers. I was always the kid asking, "why?" growing up. And I wasn't usually ever content or felt settled until I knew the answer. After talking with Cindy, a part of my soul started asking more questions about her life. I tried to shake them and shut them off and venture back to my cave of a world back at my bungalow that evening. I hadn't conversed with anyone other than Mary in so long, that talking with another person like that, even that simple exchange, had stirred my soul.