pig-good mud puddle
Gray and cool today. And I love that. But my soul is very low, very aware that that by stretching myself between two homes, neither is my home. Neither belongs to me and I belong in neither. Objectively, rationally, I see this is only another step in this transition and understand that I will be building a new relationship with both places that I now live in; however, emotionally, today, I am a wreck. I want back everything that I have given up, even though I couldn't wait to give it up!
I walked the dog late last night after the drive back to the Very Middle and wound up staring at the long pine needles of a tree that I have walked by oblivious to for years now. I took in the length and texture of each needle, their connection to the tree. And my thought was that this was no longer my tree to walk past. Well, of course, it is not "my" tree, but I no longer belong to this neighborhood, this place, as I did. I no longer can assume that I will walk past this tree everyday. What if, one day, I can only observe such a thing in a gated park, in a public space.
Well, I've obsessed about home, about place for a long time. I've said that the Very Middle is not my home, not at all the place that calls to me. And now. Now, I am nostaligic about the very needle on a neighbor's tree. I've procured or have been gifted with what I think is the best of both worlds -- time in my lovely house and time in the Great City. So now, I have pain attached to both. Oh, how I am wallowing, like a pig-good mud puddle, in whch could not even be a blip on the scale of suffering. But then, it is my blip. And I come back around the circle.
posted by Suz @ 10:51 AM
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