My bottom was sore from sitting on the floor of Secaucus station, my hand burning from scrolling through my phone while it charged rather than just letting it charge. My Mega Bus which I will forever more call Mega Bust was three going on four hours delayed but I had a donut and a cold brew to appease me. The last seats remaining on the beyond delayed bus were in the way back and each time we hit a bump I flew into the air. For the first time in a long time I felt light. I met two kind souls and we talked for most of the ride which made the time accelerate. They gave me moral support as I fought for my $26 dollars back from the bus ticket. It might not be a lot of money to a corporation, but after that egregious delay and a missed opportunity to wander Georgetown at night, I wanted it back. I booked an Amtrak home and extended my stay through Sunday afternoon, hell with how much it cost. Experiences have value too.

Copley Hall at Georgetown University was my home sophomore year.

Gooey cookies and subs from Wisemiller's, or Wisey's, were a favorite indulgence as a student.

Although the delay was a nuisance, a departure from my normal routine still felt momentous. Train stations and airports hold much significance for me because the stories unfolding there are so palpable. Soon to be companions meeting for the first time while they share a bench and bake in the heat waiting for their bus, loners running away, a soldier coming home. My bus buddy was from Baltimore, around my mother's age, and had been in Boston for a week with a special "friend". Her children hadn't wanted her to take the trip because she is terminally ill, but she refused to compromise her plan. She only told me she hoped her friend would not fall in love with her because she didn't know how long she had. Her courage astounded me, but being prone to seizures and fainting, I could see why her children would be concerned. When we passed into Philadelphia she dozed off to sleep and I leaned over to check that she was breathing. A slight scar shown on the upper part of her chest as she inhaled and exhaled.

Colored and cozy on 36th street in Georgetown.

Loaves at Baked and Wired. Georgetown Cupcake pales in comparison to this spot.

Just around 1am I tumbled into bed, freshly bathed in hotel body wash, at the Key Bridge Marriott, where my parents and grandparents stayed whenever they visited me at Georgetown. I rose early the next morning and walked over the Key Bridge gazing out at the row boats on the Potomac and landmarks in the distance. I caught up with two dear friends, celebrated the pending nuptials of two other beloved friends, and found my way back to Georgetown for Thomas Sweet Chocolate Chip Cookie Ice Cream and rainbow sprinkles. Not to be confused with Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough, this ice cream literally tastes like cookie batter and is unlike any other ice cream I have ever had.

On Sunday I visited the restaurant that gave me the life I now know, Filomena. One of the managers, Anton, greeted me as if no time passed. He only asked if James and I had children yet. Not yet I said. The cast of characters at Filomena remains the same although the hostess, like me back then, looked like a student. The menu hasn't changed, the decor hasn't changed, nor the music. The restaurant continues to do 400 covers a night effortlessly; why change a thing? I embraced a few old friends and settled in to dip crusty bread in an Olive Oil confection complete with olives and herbs. For lunch I chose the Smoked Chicken and Mozzarella Ravioli with a thick rustic tomato sauce. I didn't take a photo of it although taking photos of food is one of my great joys. The food at Filomena is not made for Instagram. It is made to be savored.

I leaned back in my seat with a full stomach to make room for my favorite Turtle Cheesecake and reflected on my brief five months of employment. In that short time I got a taste of the hospitality industry, made friends, practiced my Italian, ate too much dessert, and found the man I would marry. Fast forward to our long distance relationship, James, then an Executive Sous Chef, would call me to confirm the spelling of Italian words for the day's specials. I would send text messages back, privately wishing that I was there for one more "family" meal. I followed him back to D.C., he followed me to NJ and now we have family meals of a different kind.

I depart for the train. The bustle and magic of Union Station feels like my own Platform 9 3/4 only I have no years left at Hogwarts. This chapter isn't all that bad though.

With alarming quickness this year has come and gone. In 2015 I entered into the second quarter century of my life, began working in the non-profit sector with remarkable individuals, and became a wife. A few things I learned along the way...

I learned that sisters do not have to share the same parents. You can be fortunate to find friends so dear that you look to them as family. The label of a friend is not nearly momentous enough. I also learned I'll be gaining a brother this upcoming September, and he has already given our family such love.

I learned that spanx work wonders when you're wearing an ivory gown, navy blue cowboy boots make fine footwear for a wedding, edible favors are the best favors, and whiskey and beer beat an extensive bar list for the right crowd.

Two words: Vegan Chili.

I learned that there remains in me, despite my knowing better, a fixation with the illusion of perfection. Maybe because perfection is celebrated and applauded. As a people, we flock to what is beautiful and pristine. And together. We are drawn to people that present an air of ease, pride, and confidence. But, we only see a small part of the picture. The Facebook version of our existence is a dreadfully unrealistic one. And we see what we choose to see. I have learned it is a worthy undertaking to see the wholeness in us through the broken glass. The beauty in our fragile state, and the love that seeps from our words and deeds. The unkempt homes, unconventional relationships, anxieties, and extra pounds. The poor self esteem, problematic skin, unforeseen challenges, and burdens. When we stop comparing, the only thing left is the right thing. We are already enough.

I learned Basic Sign Language, and how to communicate with individuals who are both deaf and blind, using tactile signing. In my ignorance I had not known someone could be both deaf and blind as I had never experienced it before. I also work with individuals who have intellectual and developmental disabilities, complex medical and behavioral support needs, or a combination of disabilities. These individuals have interests like you or I, give back to the community, and hold jobs. They wrap presents for inclusion, make decor for holiday parties, pack lunches, attend mass, and sing Christmas carols. They have inspired me in a formative way, and not because I look at them as lesser, but rather because we live in a world that is geared towards those with access to all of their senses and a range of abilities. Regardless of barriers to participation, these individuals are vital members of their communities, they contribute, and they deserve every opportunity any other person is afforded. It is our duty as a civilization to ensure access to these opportunities for everyone, regardless of the differences that divide us. These peers of mine have taught me more than most able bodied and able minded ever will. Now look me in the eye, and tell me this is not their power.

If you have any interest in supporting quality programs for these individuals, I welcome you to make a contribution to our Holiday Campaign.

I learned that when I am critical of myself it overflows into my judgement of others. I judge more harshly and peer with critical eyes when I am feeling inadequate; maybe this is a survival mechanism. If I am in a deep well, I am pulling someone else down with me? But what I have learned is It would be fortuitous for everyone to begin with self love and acceptance. When we are in touch with our worth, it is easier to accept others. They deserve our best. And we do too.

I learned what it feels like to be on screen thanks to the timeless craftsmanship of Shane Kress. And what it is to have my written work shared on a larger scale than this digital space of mine

We celebrated our reception in an charming, historic mansion: The Oakeside.

I learned that a state of mind has very little to do with the state of affairs. Inwardly we can be in shambles, yet to others we seem typical and unfazed. I also know that having everything from a tangible perspective does not correlate to peace of mind.

It is ok to be pleased with an uncomplicated life, to relish in the simple. To look the rat race in the face and say NO, I am not going to participate no matter how alluring the cheese smells.

All cakes, favors, planning, and venue decor by 2SweetLLC.

I learned that the most vulnerable, the cast out, and the people who are last in line are the keepers of what is important.

I felt what it was like for time to be suspended for a day. I walked down an aisle in a quaint Franciscan church before my family, friends and the heavenly Father himself, and walked away from the altar a wife.

I developed a taste for Rum punch, leapt off a cliff in Jamaica, and had my very first massage. I also had my second massage. It was a good year indeed.

I said good bye to two women who were fighters to the very end. They looked pain and uncertainly in the brutal face, undeterred, and lived fully until their last breaths. I learned that when we confront sorrow, a hard shell develops so we can cope with what we experience. This does not cast out our compassion, but rather ensures that after we experience pain we can still wake up and face another day with courage. I learned how truly trivial a majority of our worries can be. I learned to be a little tougher like my sister.

I learned that if all else fails to take a deep breath, followed immediately by a bubble bath with a bath bomb from Lush.