I know that I've been all doom and gloom--and rushing around like a crazy, impatient person on fire. So, today is about rolling my shoulders back (and yours?) Don't worry. I am writing all of this to process. That’s all. Shake it off. Take a breath.
I have to spell this all out for myself—isn’t that a terrible pun? To remind me of how it goes. Have some faith. There is time for everything. Slow down. Bump the brakes. I am still here writing, thinking, singing, working, playing with S, and handling my shit. Yes, me…handling my own shit. Here’s my plan: work and finish these nasty deadlines. Keep going to therapy. Talk, read, write, think, work. Then by the end of May, I will breathe.
Mid June I am off for vacation. Zip line through the jungle, laugh, dance, read a poem at a dear friend’s wedding, swim in the ocean, sit still in the sun—have some fun. Fun, remember that? I do. I want to remember.
There is memory in my muscles. There are memories in my skin, in my fingertips, in my eyes. My eyes remember—the city park at last sunlight, the surprise of laughter, the smoke curling up from a cigarette. There is memory in the sounds of life, the waves rolling in and out and in again—the beach birds hollering, the shish of the wind.
Memory in the sounds of the train, in the sounds of the city, the freeways, the whir of the air from an open car window. Traveling without moving.
I can remember the scent of that baby’s skin. I can feel her breath on my face and shoulder. I can taste her tears and hear her laugh all in my mind. I can feel her baby hands touching, hugging, holding, patting.
Memories are strong today. Things are okay. I am here. I am writing.
Now, slave, back to work.