I don't live in Florida anymore.

♥

I am prickling with anxiety, excitement, worry. My hands are always restless, fingers opening and closing. My legs are not my legs.

I’m worried that I’ll forget some mundane detail and everything will go spinning apart and I will fail and fall.

I’m worried that I’ll be lonely.

One week. One week from this moment I’ll be on the road with one van one truck two friends five cats and STUFF.

—-

And the end-of-relationship stuff is, of course, running like a thundering river through all of this. I am angry and wistful and sad… mostly angry, though. My point has been proven and italicized and highlighted and underlined three times in red pen, and there is frustration in realizing that it’s only useful to me. There is grieving and steeling and teeth-gritting, reminding myself I am doing the right thing.

I will miss the convenience.

(I will learn to be self-sufficient again. This is actually very good.)

I will miss caring for others, most of all.

(There will be more. And in the meantime, it will be good for me to learn to turn that caring inward, towards myself. This too, is good.)

I am doing the right thing.

 

Ch-ch-ch-changes, yo.

Four states away from where I've lived all my life.

I'm going home. 

♥

lately

I'm kinda into this embroidery thing.

 

Hey, you. 

How've you been?

I am trying to soak up these perfect afternoons for as long as I can.
♥

A good book, a cold beer, a tiny blanket and a perfect breeze.
A quiet empty park with all the birds singing and the faint highway hum in the background, and only the trees for company.

Sometimes that's all a girl needs.
♥