sometimes…

by shadymama

sometimes, it’s hard.  sometimes, i’ll get that ache in the pit of my gut; that ache in the place that used to house an utter lack of obligation and a whole world of simplicity and long, lazy afternoons/mornings/nights stretched out before me,

devoid

of needs and demands.  and that ache, it pulses, deep.deep.deep, to the rhythm of transient days and contorted nights spent curled up on benches/cement/bus seats, cramped and restless, drunk on freedom, high on adventure, only the soles of my shoes to call home. 

i remember

feeling like i most belonged in the midst of the busy bustle of an airport terminal or bus station.  sitting with my cigarette, my whiskey, my journal and my half smirk ; self-satisfied, roaming and unsure, tongue tripping over unfamiliar languages and tastes, i breathed deep the intoxicating and wide open air of a recent escape – who knew

rootless

looked the same as

flight.

and that wings sprout, not when you run with held breath, but when you breathe deep and become still within the spiraled bars of yer ribs, caged that they are. 

i sit now,

in the occasional solitude i am granted, and  i am still.  i am full.  i am open.  i breathe deeply and feel the expansion of something much bigger than my lungs.  i cannot imagine the life i was imagining before this life of mine split into something

two.

i look back at that girl, with her backpack and bare feet and determined ferocity.  her biggest fear was normalcy, and i can’t blame her, but…how was she to know that fleeing oneself is about as normal as it gets?  how was she to know that the originality she craved comes from looking in the mirror and memorizing yer own two unique irises, yer lined palm prints, the sound of yer own steady in/ex hail to the sky? 

she knows now.

and the gratitude i feel for that knowledge manifests itself in the slow tending of my garden.  the slow tending of my home.  my relationships with the human souls around me and my relationships with the souls of the wind and the sky and the river that runs through my town.  the gratitude i feel manifests itself in the raising of my child and the connection of two spirits with my lover. 

yes,

those days of feeling like i was flying, careless and unconstrained, were wild and breathless and quick to burn at flash point.  but these days, with my feet planted firmly in the earth, my face turned grateful toward the sky, my child on my hip and lover at my side – these days, i know the difference between falling and and truly being able to take flight.

to remind me of roots and reaching

 

 

 

 

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