I got to take yesterday off to recover a bit from the festival.  It felt like the days when I first moved here: walking Hijo to the bus stop with a sweatshirt thrown over my pajamas; reading lots of blogs, linking through to ones I've never seen before, always amazed at all the powerful, beautiful writing brought to me via this little machine on my desk; going for a walk along the harbor towards the mill at low tide, the sun strong on the side of my face. 

A snake crossed my path and I thought to myself, this is aupicious, snakes are a good sign.  Or are snakes a bad sign?  Then, Jesus Christ, Janeen, it's just a snake. I'd woken up early, before five, my sleep patterns still affected by being wound up for so many days. I didn't walk very far.  I didn't write one word in the little moleskine notebook I bought either.

So many changes, little and big, internal and external, over the last year.  It was Halloween, just as we were getting ready to go trick-or-treating, that I found the stack of papers on my doorstep alerting me they were converting our apartment building to condos.  All the things that I've accomplished, all the goals met, articles published, adjustments made, jobs won, raises earned, but what stays with me is a feeling of inadequacy because I can't keep the house clean. 

I am missing a man who writes his love letters to someone else.

Comments

[Kat]

Hug.

[Kimberly]

I remember that day. What a lousy Halloween.

Another hug.

[xath]

I think you and Hijo have made great progress! Clean house? What is the long term effect from that? I'm thinking callouses (sp?) and anger. Wish i could do something about that guy...but i can only give internet advice.

[nina]

Oh, everything is fine regarding that guy. It's all as it should be, and some sadness notwithstanding, I am content. That last sentence (and much of the post) was largely an expression of frustration with myself.

Thanks all for the hugs and concern.