Eight Months. Really?

I could have sworn I *just* updated this blog, but like so many things that involve time these days, I was surprised to find that it’s been a minute. An over-eight-months kind of minute.

So what have I been up to? Where has the time gone?

The short of it: global pandemic, stress, teaching lots of classes, teaching fewer classes, starting to write a new book, finishing that new book, relational upheaval, relational unknown, that whole global pandemic thing suddenly coming to an abrupt halt (“What global pandemic…?”), and of course, spending time with the one consistent: my dog, Roonil.

So, a lot has been going on, and yet time has started slipping by at an alarming rate. It still has that slick quality that the pandemic gave it – where every day felt similar and routine became safety and safety became paramount – where time just fell away and it was Monday, and then Monday, and then another Monday again… Time is moving just as quickly, still, even though things have changed.

(“What global pandemic…?”)

Maybe this is just getting older. Maybe this is just the way it feels when days are hot and the sun is ruthless. Or maybe I’m just waiting for something.

It feels like something is about to change; like I’m anticipating the next chapter of my life. I can see it – it’s just there. Maybe on the other side of this oppressive heat. Maybe when one more shoe drops. (How many shoes are there? I thought there were just supposed to be two…) Maybe when I’ve finally rested, just a little longer, just five more minutes, after this year. After this decade. But as it is, I’m in the middle. These words have ended and new ones have yet to begin. I’ve landed on an accidentally blank page.

But it gives me time to pause. And rest. And wonder:

What do I want next, exactly? For career? For family? For my home?

I’ve whittled this dream down over the years to a fine point that feels more solid than amorphous; a point so fine I could cut my finger on it. But the details of how and when exactly, they’re still coming into focus. It seems outside of my control, other than to live brave and true, and say yes to the things that give me life. No to the things that don’t.

And so I’ll wait, and live, and let the heat of summer wash over me and make me lazy and heavy-feeling. I’ll teach classes. An announcement on that will come soon – I promise. I’ll make art. I’ll write – maybe I’ll even start posting here again.

Mondays will become Mondays will become Mondays.

And someday soon, maybe on the other side of all this heat, a new chapter will begin.

Don’t worry. I’ll let you guys know how the story’s going.

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