--I am on the phone, talking to the Wizard, my beloved partner. He is in South Carolina; I am in West Virginia. Today is the first day of his new job. He is staying with my mother for now. The rest of us -- the Samurai (my other beloved partner), my daughter, and I -- will join him as soon as we have a home down there to hold us and all of our stuff. This could take three months, or it could take forever. I can't tell which. I probably look tense.
--The four of us are looking at three houses in South Carolina. They all have pools and lots of rooms. The first is run-down and sorely in need of love, but has potential. The second is a recent foreclosure, hastily vacated, and too spacious, sprawling and scattered. The third is still inhabited, an artist's beloved haven; the tour feels like a private gallery showing. We can't afford to make a move on any of these properties yet. What are we doing?
--I am looking at my treasure trove of blank journals. It is such a comfort, knowing where the next journal is coming from. I choose a teal and cream volume with birds and wildflowers on the cover. It feels right for spring.
--I am sleeping sitting up, in the den, on a peaceful morning. I am asked if I want to go back to bed, and the answer is no. I want to drift through layers of consciousness, right where I am. These are important journeys.
--We are packing books into boxes. We still have no idea when we will be moving. I begin to refer to this project -- selling a home, buying a home, packing up and moving from one home to another -- as Operation Relocation.
--My daughter and I are watching a local production of Cats. I haven't seen it in years; my daughter has never seen it before today. She is enthralled; I am in tears.
--I am (with the Samurai's help) putting henna in my hair for the second time in six weeks. I feel good about this.
--I am singing Mozart's Mass in C Minor. I have laryngitis; my singing voice is hanging by a thread, and I'm singing anyway. Somehow, I dig deep and find enough voice to see me through. For days afterwards, I can barely speak.
--My daughter and I are getting haircuts together. We both leave the salon happy.
--I am standing up for myself.
--Oh, look, there I am again, standing up for myself.
--And again. See me? Over there. Yes.
--I am having adventures.
--The four of us are looking at three houses in South Carolina. They all have pools and lots of rooms. The first is run-down and sorely in need of love, but has potential. The second is a recent foreclosure, hastily vacated, and too spacious, sprawling and scattered. The third is still inhabited, an artist's beloved haven; the tour feels like a private gallery showing. We can't afford to make a move on any of these properties yet. What are we doing?
--I am looking at my treasure trove of blank journals. It is such a comfort, knowing where the next journal is coming from. I choose a teal and cream volume with birds and wildflowers on the cover. It feels right for spring.
--I am sleeping sitting up, in the den, on a peaceful morning. I am asked if I want to go back to bed, and the answer is no. I want to drift through layers of consciousness, right where I am. These are important journeys.
--We are packing books into boxes. We still have no idea when we will be moving. I begin to refer to this project -- selling a home, buying a home, packing up and moving from one home to another -- as Operation Relocation.
--My daughter and I are watching a local production of Cats. I haven't seen it in years; my daughter has never seen it before today. She is enthralled; I am in tears.
--I am (with the Samurai's help) putting henna in my hair for the second time in six weeks. I feel good about this.
--I am singing Mozart's Mass in C Minor. I have laryngitis; my singing voice is hanging by a thread, and I'm singing anyway. Somehow, I dig deep and find enough voice to see me through. For days afterwards, I can barely speak.
--My daughter and I are getting haircuts together. We both leave the salon happy.
--I am standing up for myself.
--Oh, look, there I am again, standing up for myself.
--And again. See me? Over there. Yes.
--I am having adventures.
RSS Feed