I would apologize, but I’m at a point in my life where I no longer say I’m sorry for doing what works best for me. It’s quite liberating. You should try it sometime.
A moment ago, I glanced up on the shelf above my desk at the spot where the clock usually sits, but it was gone. I had to move it yesterday to make room for something else. In my head I heard my own voice say “Sometimes you give up something you want for something more important.” And I know this to be true.
Let’s talk about Maine for a minute- I almost never do, you know. I don’t even let myself think about it very hard, to be honest. Last night, as I lay in bed, I thought “It seems just like a dream, it doesn’t even seem real.” And I decided that living in a place for six months can only be a dream, or, I suppose, a nightmare. You have to stay longer for it to be real.
Either way, I miss the beach there. I miss the sunrises and sunsets, the quiet, the walks. I was leaving just as it was waking up and it is sad to think of all the things that have happened now without me.
Chico is busy. It’s busy and noisy and so very hot, and when people are hot, they are miserable. Still, when I take walks in the mornings when it is still possible to do so, there is enough heat to make the different flowers fragrant, and the whole neighborhood smells better than any perfume. The cars all speed down my street, rarely do they stop to let somebody cross. Everyone is in a hurry, late for something. I’ve been working from home for so long that the whole concept seems awful to me, running off to punch a clock. I’d empathize if they let Cam and I cross when we were trying to walk to her school.
Before I left for the East Coast, when I was still in my little house in Seaside, I worried that if I left I would never be able to go back. I convinced myself that I was being ridiculous, that I could do anything I wanted to do. After everything else I’d pulled off, it seemed plausible that I should believe the best of me. But sitting here now, looking at the options available to me back on the coast, back at home…I wonder. I wonder if I was right to have worried.
And more than that, is that even where I want to be? Is that even home anymore? I don’t know. I don’t know, and I’m so tired of thinking about it. My dream was to move to Maine. I did that, and now I am back in California and I don’t know what I’m supposed to be dreaming about right now. I’m in the space between dreams, I guess. For someone like me, that isn’t natural. And maybe that is where I’m supposed to be. Someplace less perfect.
It’s 6:24 and I’m already sweating. This part I could have lived without. Yuck.
I have other things I am working on, so I’m going to go work on them for a while. But rest assured, I am alive and mostly well, waiting for the next adventure to grab me.