It's more than writer's block. More like life block. No, no, that's not quite right. And maybe that's the point. NOTHING is quite right at the moment. Not that it's wrong, exactly. Things are upended. There. I think that's what I mean to say here. Think of a shiny metal trash can. Turned over. Maybe pushed or knocked over? It's lid rolled away, somewhere down the long driveway. Contents spilling out. Scattered in a colorful array of textures and odors across the pavement. I'm trying to gather those contents and return them to their proper place. But wind and rain and heat have had their way with the spill . . . I can't get every little thing back . . . I've had to watch as much that was familiar has washed away. Blown away. Melted into new unrecognizable forms. And yet there's plenty left to round up and toss back in that shiny metal can.
And now I'm sitting here. Hunched. Leaning to the left (please don't read any politics into that; I'm literally leaning). Rolling my internal eyes whilst squinting my actual brown eyes (I am the quintessential brown-eyed girl, after all). Thinking that comparing my recent life events to the contents of a trash can isn't the best metaphor. Good! Grief! In my defense, I'm rather out of practice with my blogging. I still compose endlessly within my head . . . but I have the attention span of a hyperactive dog and difficulty sitting in one place for too long. Not to mention that I've been rather mentally lazy.
But even with the poor choice of an example, 'upended' and 'scattered' and 'unrecognizable' fit the bill.
It's all been a bit of a blur. Weddings. Funerals. Bridal showers. Bachelorette party: complete with bed bugs, hot tub and Jacqueline's dangerously deceptive cocktail masquerading as harmless juice. Out-of-town guests creating a very full house. A serious second-degree burn which adrenaline shoved to the sidelines until it screamed for attention. And enough dancing to warrant kicking off the shoes.
Oh, and travel. By air. Thwarted more than once by tornadoes in Colorado as opposed to Tennessee for a refreshing change. (The indignant complaints by disgruntled travelers who somehow thought United Airlines caused the bad weather simply to vex their customers both amused and bothered me.) By automobile. With a straight face, I tell you that the roads to and from Richmond, Virginia, harbor some of the cleanest rest stops in the country. I ought to know, considering that I had to park, pee and stretch almost every 9+ hours there AND the 9+ hours back. (I develop travel narcolepsy when driving long distances; coffee truly aids in keeping me alert; coffee is also a serious diuretic for me; hence a vicious circle: energy drinks make me nauseous -- no need to suggest.)
With my husband now gainfully employed since the end of March and living in Virginia, life in Middle Tennessee has seemed a half-life. We are headed toward the second phase of our married lives: empty nesters. The youngest made it through high school and has the diploma to prove it. The eldest now sports pretty impressive bling on her left ring finger, proclaiming to the world entire her new marital state. The middle baby will head to Hawaii next spring with her Army husband. The cat moved out of our house and into the newlyweds' apartment. The Hankie Mutt, yet a kitchen counter grazer, and the wild and wooly Gracie Helen deaf pup, continue their nice-when-a-dog-can-get-it-gig with me as their caretaker. (Quitting mothering cold turkey could be dangerous to my health!) We've cleared several major life hurdles within the space of TWO months. And now I'm expected to just pack up my home, say a fine howdy-do to my Murfreesboro beloved, sell the house and move even further east. Easy enough, right? Eh. Not so much. I'm tired just thinking about it. From just writing a few words about it.
I feel like the odd man out. Used to be that didn't bother me so much. Or maybe I just thought it didn't. No. I didn't mind. Now, though yet the 'odd man,' I don't wanna be out! My husband fills his days with work at the new job, studying online and waiting for me. And meanwhile, my children are pursuing adulthood and enjoying their newfound freedoms. My sweet friends lead full lives, and though I add to that fullness, their settled lives move steadily onward, absorbing significant life changes into the familiar folds of their homes, their churches, their families, their spouses. I'm not fully here nor am I yet fully there. I continue to be fascinated by how much rocking one life can take and yet still be rocked.
So, I'll try to chronicle a few tid-bits in the coming month as I pack it all up and load the wagons. Perhaps that will smooth out a few of the bumps in the road ahead. And quell the roiling of emotions within me. I'm ALL for the 'hellos' to be had upon being reunited with my love . . . but like a majority of folks out there, I'm not big on 'goodbyes!'
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