It's All About the Journey

It feels empty. The floors are dark hardwood and the paint is fresh. It even smells empty. The bed is empty. It’s been two and a half years since I walked into a house knowing that it would always be empty. It feels like two things. It feels like… not exactly loneliness, but almost. Maybe just solitude in a way I don’t remember feeling it. I’ve lived 31 years and in those years, I’ve very rarely been by myself. I’m not sure I know how. But that emptiness also smells like freedom. It’s silly to think about it, but no one will be mad because I forgot to pick up my socks, no one will move my mail somewhere that I can’t find it, and no one will expect me to cook dinner or make some other arrangements every night. The kid is quite happy with takeout, and so am I some nights. There are boxes all over. Most of them are labeled. The move went well. We hired professionals for all the heavy stuff. It was all done in about six hours. I kind of purged the stuff I no longer cared for when I mo...

This is good. I keep repeating that as my mantra. I love change. I thrive on change, so this is good. It does not feel very fucking good. It feels lonely though I'm not alone. I got the confirmation for my UHaul this morning. I move out of that gilded cage in two days. I have a terrible cold. I have a full heart. I found my tribe a while back and we really are quite the crew. I'll post this up and share with them because they see me. Not over me or past me or through me, but me. All of me. The me who drinks too much at a Friday night concert and the me who has a total fangirl moment over a signed poster and the me who loves our little music family all the way down into my bones, despite my nearest and dearest telling me that I must be crazy for it. They see me and they hear me in every note and every word of that music we share in our hearts. He did finally let me have a cat. We got the cat at the end of June. He was a big, quiet Maine Coon we named Oliver. Eleven pounds of d...