You know that feeling when you’re waiting for it to begin? Waiting for the holiday, or waiting for an arrival (or departure) or a new start or a new adventure? Kind of a shivery excited, maybe no small amount of obsessing—imagining and scripting the scenarios or the place—a little nervous even if you’ve done it before?
We’re in Waiting. We wait to close escrow on a permanent house in Moss Beach, we wait for flooring and painting estimates to set a move-out-move-in date, we even wait to leave FL to return to Sabbatical Housing in Palo Alto to start packing and planning (always, planning.)
And, I wait for significant feedback on the current Novel Draft from my Stanford mentor, Joshua Mohr; I wait to begin perhaps the final 2-month
revision on the major artistic work of my last two and a half years. (That, in particular is a great big wait—filled with trepidations even though we’ve done this before. But, that’s just normal writerly angst.)Yet, here I am. Two more days, three more nights in sunny 80’s, ocean and sand. A few more days with my daughter before we’re separated by a continent again. Less than 72 hours before David and I go our separate work-day ways. A book to finish reading, another to start (and finish) before next week.
As much as I exhort myself to enjoy the journey, be in the moment (you know), and am certain worrying doesn’t help (um, yeah, “Bridge of Spies” good movie!) there’s always the next, and the next and the next. Being in perpetual motion, mid-Cliff Dive, uncertain climate ahead, can be a tough place to reside. Exciting though it may be.
What always helps, though, is having glimpses into your motion machines, the moments you (yes, you!) make still for examination. And so. I’ve joined the (dreaded) Facebook! And, already, I’m rewarded: today was Chel’s mac and cheese (and really, the new countertop upon which the mac resides…a tantalizing glimpse, will she post more of the move and the place and the man?!)
Though it’s not conscious (I wouldn’t think, anway…) those particular posts: the cat (hatlike on her head), the delirious high school friend with her diamond Christmas, the baby face close-ups (whoa, really, really close), but especially the Dad lost, and the Mom lost in 2015 —felt all the more strongly for their absence, their ethereal online presence—these all reflect the heart of your life. Would I say the cat or the mac or the ocean is the definition of my (or your) self? Nah. But, the details, and the stories behind each of those moments, rich with memories and associations, are the palpable now.
So, thanks, everyone! Thanks for sharing your moments, I am richer (and quieter) for them.