It has been almost six months to the day since I last posted in this space. Things happen very quickly and very slowly at the same time. I can’t really explain that. I just know that in the past six months there have been deaths of loved ones, as well as news of pending births. There has been A LOT of snow and cold–more in one season than I ever remember having before. Friends have moved away and resettled in other places. There have been breakups and marriages and drama over silly things that I’ve watched from a distance (because Felix don’t do drama)…
And yet here I remain. Something is different though. The slow, deliberate moves I have made in this journey seem to have brought me back to where I began. Steeped in need…yearning for freedom…looking out onto the playground while others play without me. Damn that doesn’t sound promising at all, does it? But at the same time I don’t think I’ve ever felt more certain and ready.
I’ll be 43 this summer. My dad died when he was 44. It’s a morbid thought, although one I have often lately:
If I only had one more year on this earth, how could I make it an incredible one?