May You be the wind.
June 1, 2011 § Leave a comment
An official decision has been reached in my life. I think I knew it before, but let’s put it out there for the record: Life is boring without wine. You knew this already? Well, call me slow.
I’m sitting here listening to Kate Rusby and drinking some sort of red at Lisa’s as she cooks me dinner. Feeding me might, honestly, be the quickest most direct route to my heart. Not necessarily the big private room with the recliner, but it’s dang close.
After the crazy of the past couple of weeks, my gratitude for good food and good wine and laughter has swollen to beyond capacity.
First, I finally had to say good-bye to Marlene. She’s blessing lots of other people with her parts who couldn’t normally afford it. I moved out of Derby, which was a bit more sad than I originally saw coming. And, as if that level of chaos was not enough, the favorite and I decided to remain friends and nothing more.
On the one hand, I was disappointed. Because he. is. great. Great great. Holy-cannoli-on-a-stick great. You can tell him I said so.
On the other hand, I feel kind of, well, free.
See, I am part gypsy. Feel free to be offended at that word. I don’t mean it that way. But, this is my blog. So there.
And him, well, he’s grounded. Owns his own house and works a great job and has tons of family in the area and all that jazz. Which is beautiful, but not entirely me. I don’t sit still very well. Duh.
I mean, my stuff is currently in a 5×10 storage unit and my church pew is at a foster house and I had furniture go to two other houses and I’m living out of a suitcase. And y’all, I kind of love it.
With the cacophony of these past couple of weeks the other day I dragged my favorite quilt out to my favorite field to shut everyone else off and talk to Jesus. In my revelation of feeling free again, I wrote that I loved that I got to move with the wind; that I wanted to move easily and freely with it; and to please, Jesus, please be the wind.
In January, with a move to Prague, my worldly possessions will be reduced to what I can physically carry on to a plane. The thought of that is just, liberating. You mean I can go live in another country for a few months and create art and be extrovert and all I gotta do is sell all my shit?
See, that was the other thing. I was constantly having to watch my mouth around the favorite. The reasons for doing so were all good and I didn’t feel like it was a legalistic situation at all, but it’s quite nice to just be myself again.
School, photos, apartment hunting, Prague, Jesus.
Let’s do the damn thing.