The air has officially changed.
I’ve been waking up each morning to soft golden light coming through the windows in my house rather than the dark threats of rain.
I’ve found my feet back in their natural habitat of flip-flops without the wind chill they were getting in the winter when I tried the same thing, and my toes are free and happy again.
I’ve been throwing myself into the beauty of the blossoming world at every single opportunity that I get, and it seems more often than not these days my Nikon strap is a happy weight around my neck.
I want to capture what I’m seeing.
I want to capture what I’m finally feeling.
I’m starting to breathe again.
I wish I could capture that with a digital SLR.
I was driving down the highway at sunset this past week, drinking in the bars of warm light that fell between the pine trees and danced around my car when something caught my eye.
A masculine arm slid out the open driver’s side window of the truck in front of me. It hovered there for a moment, before it’s owner suddenly cupped his hand against the wind and let it take flight, riding the waves of air up and down as he drove.
I watched, oddly transfixed.
His hand rose and fell on the wind current, graceful, free, happy.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
These past few months have been like a gentle current leading me to the shore after months of drifting in the deep, and all I want to do is lean into it and pray that it doesn’t leave, that it doesn’t change. That I’m strong enough this time.
When moments of happiness come, they hit me harder this time around. I capture them like snapshots, appreciating them with an intensity that often grasps my throat and steals my words.
Part of the momentum that’s propelling me to the dry land is coming from those around me, and I secretly love them all. I’m drawing from the reservoirs of strength in those nearby, pulling from their closeness, their support, their willingness to share their stories and their hearts, to stay out late and go wandering with me out in the woods and into the lonely old forgotten towns.
These moments glow.
Their hearts are healing mine.
Their laughs are contagious, so I stick close by.
I’ve been weaving these moments together like a tapestry, and covering myself with it every time the darkness tries to lay it’s cold hands on my skin.
My life has new leading characters, and these characters are helping to create new memories to stack on top of the black ones that have been stuck on replay in my mind…new moments.
I take these moments out and fly them like kites.
A campfire on a gloriously clear, frigid March night – staring at more stars than I ever knew existed back when I lived in my California city.
A truck bed full of people peeling out of my driveway at twilight, listening to them calling back to me until they were out of sight while I stood in the gravel, shaking my head.
Walking through a clearing in the woods around beautifully ancient headstones, pulling my beanie down tight against my ears to keep out the early spring cold as their flashlights flickered and went out. We all stood together, staring at the full moonlight.
The three of us happily stumbling over fallen trees and rockslides, through a dark abandoned railroad tunnel to the light on the other side.
Watching as the dropping sun touched the matching heads of brilliant red hair on a quiet bridge.
Lingering in a parking lot and making fun of the kids who linger in parking lots.
A pair of guitars on the couch and a crock pot of meatballs in the kitchen.
A dance party at midnight.
A long drive to an abandoned tower overlooking such a quiet, natural peace that it settled over my heart and hasn’t left yet. Always take the scenic route. I guarantee you, it won’t feel long enough.
These were moments, only moments…but the current took me to them, washed me in them, soaked me in them. I can feel them coursing through my veins, seeping into the crevices of my heart.
There will always be skeletons in my closet.
Monsters under my bed.
Stories I wish with all my heart had never been started since the cowriter walked away mid chapter.
He may have taken my pen for a year, but I think I just might have found it again.
I’m ready to start writing my life again.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
I watched that man’s hand as it soared on the 55mph wind wave outside of his car window, and the urge to join him became too strong.
I turned the AC off and cranked the window down, feeling my hair whip across my cheeks in the sudden cool blast. I slid my arm out the opening and gave the wind my unclaimed hand.
I breathed in deeply the smell of pine and wood smoke.
This year will be better.
I let the current take me.
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