swallowing weakness

Thursday, July 24, 2014

I typed this with an unopened book on my lap.

my back resting tiredly against the wall heater that is not on.

cold air coming from the drafty windows, because that's what kind of windows old libraries have.

I have been struggling a lot lately to complete things.

to clean my closet. I throw the clothes in there and close the curtains.

to pack up the things in my apartment. books are still on the shelves and pencils are still in mugs.

to admit that things can end, to say,
I will not see my family or friends for five months,
I will not get to lay on my parents couch and sleep under their warm blankets
or sit with their garden in the morning
or walk to the beach and collect sea glass, in my father's wool sweater and my mother's running leggings. 
I will not see Emme -- she will be old when I see her again, old enough to count to ten in spanish if she wills herself to.
I will not walk across that beautiful, hogwarts campus in the rain and complain but secretly love sneaking back to my room to drink tea with the Seattle rain lulling my eyes closed. 

there are a lot of things that I will be able to do, but sometimes it takes a while to remember
I will learn about children and their love of fresh-air-life
I will drink chai tea in a foreign country
I will take a lot of airplanes and walk a lot of miles 
I will spend my holiday break in spain & france
and I will get to drink lots of european wine
and eat lots of baguettes
and wear only the most minimalist, comfortable clothes
and learn yoga,
and practice more and more breathing. 

but it is hard.

it is hard at eight at night when I know the night is approaching and I really, really want strong arms around me as I will myself to cry.

it is hard when I haven't cried in a long time, and I am now having trouble stopping the tears.

it is hard to exchange one desire for another,

it is hard to admit that in order for me to follow my dreams, to pursue five months of necessary content in my heart, I will also feel sadness.

a sweet sadness, it is, missing your home. missing the ones you love.

I anticipate it. I cry it.

and then I swallow it.

courage. strength. I am finding strength.

but oh, it is hard.

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