Lately, I am all jumbled, never really asleep, never really awake. I find myself up much later than I should be, painting or trying to write, or quietly padding around while my family sleeps, listening to house-noises I'm unfamiliar with. During the day I clean and unpack boxes, sort, donate or throw away even more stuff. Longer, sunnier days mean more porch sitting, and better chores done in the fresh air. Hayden flits around, back porch to front, then on his bike for a few rounds. I can't keep up with him anymore, so I stop straining to; I just watch him and guard him while he frolics. The husband is off at work for longer hours, beckoned by the sun. I miss him.
I paint, with music, or more frequently, in the quiet of day, with the house empty. I walk the hills and find trails, then wander back home achy and sweating. I collect feathers and leaves and strange rocks, and tell myself that they are omens and signs. I pray and am met by an enormous silence, both empty and full. I don't know yet what it means.
This is a strange time in my life. I'm not truly happy, and I'm not truly miserable. I feel a strong urge every day to keep silent, to watch. There is a lot of change happening.
xo
