"it's strange how things that once seemed so important just stop being important one day."

these were mariah's words when i sent her the update:

i stopped wearing blush.

once upon a time, mariah and i were roommates, and i informed her that it was her duty, as my dear friend and protector, to make sure that, if i died, i was buried with plenty of blush on my cheeks. because i piled it on every day and felt not quite myself without it. i wanted to go into the ground as the beth that i and everyone else (or so i imagined) pictured myself to be.

and then one day, without really noticing, i stopped. 
and it crossed my mind that i should tell mariah, in case i died and she was still the one to bury me. i needed to update her on who and how i was.
so i told her.

and then she said those words. and they're so easy and true. things that once seemed so important just stop being important one day. it was once important to me that my bangs had the just-so sideways swoop. that i kept it pitch black. it was important that i go out 5-7 night per week. it was important that i talked to all the people all the time. it was important that things looked a certain way, that i maintained a certain level of joviality and ease, that i responded quickly enough, that i took care of people the way i thought they expected. infinite moons ago, it was even important that i had a denim baseball jacket, that i saw hanson in concert, that i get over 99% on my french test.

today i don't speak french. my hair is blonde. i've stopped wearing blush.

the things that seemed so important are not.

and so i ask myself; i came here, really, to ask myself: what's important?

what transcends time and space and trends and routine and availability?

there are things that faded away quickly, easily. there are things i moved to fade away from. there are things i didn't expect to fade. there are things that i expected to fade that have persisted. what's important?

i moved because i love nic. and also because i needed to reconcile that question. what's important?

what's important is love and tiny moments and the things you take with you wherever you go. 

what's important is not even the identity i thought i had. i never get to wear a dress. i'm crammed in a generic pink scrub top and the same pair of black athletic pants over fifty hours a week. i spend a large majority of my free time cleaning the house, grocery shopping, doing laundry, and exercising. i eat at home, i make pennies for the most exhausting and demanding job i've ever worked, i can't afford to bring the boy i love with me to a wedding in november, and the compost pile i imagined is actually just a pile of rotting food covered in flies in the back of the yard.

but those are not the things. those are surprises. they could be disappointments, if i didn't have perspective. but ultimately, really they are not what's important. what's important is one of my beloved four year olds, who calls me mr. beth, telling me he wants to marry me. what's important is talking on a banana phone and making the new guy feel comfortable. what's important is store-bought tortellini and cheap red wine on the porch during the last days of heat. what's important is my first real experience of fall and the tiny fire-touched splotches of tree. what's important is coming home to nic every day and my genuine thrill at seeing him, at smelling his face, kissing his mouth, laying my head on his chest and moaning or raving about my day. what's important is missing him when he's gone, always wanting to be with him, but being secure in our absence. what's important is a small walk in the park. what's important is a motorcycle ride and my face pressed into his back and the chill that reminds me of san francisco and the hum and the freedom to only watch the world blur by and listen to the growl of an engine for a while. what's important is reading a book aloud together, practicing german, holding hands, sharing an entree, bickering over stupid things, learning how the other person loves, making the bed, taking pictures in a photo booth, baking banana bread.

there was a moment the other night. i was doing dishes and nic was taking out the trash. i looked out the kitchen window that spans the driveway and his impossibly handsome self was there, shuffling discarded pieces of floorboard between the trash cans and the curb. i felt at home. i felt the version of life i've anticipated my entire being. of togetherness and partnership. of boring and everyday. of work. of moving forward. of keeping up in small ways. of the day-to-day. it was important. what's important is mundane and small and revelatory in its simplicity.

the truth is it's hard. i feel unfamiliar and poor and insecure in ways that i haven't in a decade. but i chose it. and i chose it, because, somewhere, i knew it would be exactly that. because i got so sheathed in the false securities of my routine that i lost what was important.

so here i am. 

i don't wear blush anymore. i'm not pretending life is any rosier than it actually is.

but the truth is, too, that in the absence of that lacquered rosiness, life is still actually pretty sweet, it just appears and swells in a way that's a little more natural.

today i went to the gym after work. i listened to music, loud, and stretched and lifted weights on the empty, glossy floor and secretly danced a little. i was flushed and hot and enlivened and i looked in the mirror and liked what i was. unadorned.

this is what's important. the grit that is everyday life and the tiny victories within it that make it beautiful.

i feel lucky to be so basic right now. to be surrounded by such real, substantial, unshakeable love. to figure out who and where i am, slowly, unprotected and yet completely safe. i feel pretty damn sure of what's important. and i'm thankful for that.

the truth is, i don't wear blush anymore. and this is hard. and it's so good. and i'm the very luckiest girl alive.