I hide like a coward, although I feel strong...

Yesterday I spent the whole day at two different Ikeas (is that the proper form of multiple Ikea?) trying to find a coffee table that I liked. I know that to buy furniture from Ikea is like having the same living room as everyone else, but the price is right and the stuff is much more attractive than Living Space. In the end I bought a Billy bookcase, coffee table, rug, wardrobe and storage boxes. Now my apartment is finally looking like a home.
I started to exchange photographs and letters from one box to an (exciting! new! happy! special!) Ikea box. That meant taking a little trip down memory lane. Most of the items were from the mid to late 1990's when I was a fundie Christian. I have pictures of people I don't even remember. I have pictures of people I still talk to who are very different now than when the pictures were taken. I have birthday cards, letters I receive when I was a camp counselor, some school documents and high school notes. At one time I would've cringed and avoid reading these items, but now after all I've been through I read them with a sense of amusement. Dare I say, a sense of love? Love for that girl that I was back then who believed so hard in something that she was willing to make a grand fool of herself. For a girl who loved with all of her heart even if she wasn't very good at showing it to those she loved. For a girl who went a different route than just about everyone else around her. I guess I do love her because she is the reason I'm here today.

Okay I'm gonna stop talking in the third person, because it's even creeping me out...