Monthly Archives: May 2011

Moving on

This morning I’m drinking (2! cups of not-usually-had) coffee and sorting through my belongings to newly-discovered Patti Smith’s Horses.  (I know! How on earth could I have just discovered her!  I feel I’ve found a kindred spirit.)  Laundry is swishing and rolling in the basement, and more packing will commence shortly.

After one year of living mostly on my own, I’m moving into the bottom half of a lovely house one town away with my sweetheart. And my daughter! (But she’s part-time.  How do I express that?  Because of course she is moving with us too.)  By all accounts, this is a time of big transition.  Moving forward deeper into the life I’ve deliberately chosen for myself and my family — amid the chaotic flux of moving into a new home.

In the past, moving has been an entirely stressful time for me.  Especially as a kid; the experience was completely up-ending.  Very little notice from my parents, and then boom! I’m in a new place, devoid of the familiar surroundings and people who had brought me comfort previously.  But! This time I feel such a sense of calm.  Even with usually-detested packing ahead of me.  I kinda feel like I’m floating in joy. Embracing it!

Paring down, focusing on my vision, dreaming, moving on…


The love of my life

And the wellspring of much of my growth – past, present, and (I’m sure) future.  Almost 6 years on this earth.  It’s funny how the weight of her presence makes that time feel both longer and shorter.


The gay divorcee

Yup – as of this past Monday, that would be me!  A year and a half after knowing, finally, I could no longer be married to my husband, it’s official.

I cried in court as the words were read; feeling the finality of them. Afterwards we went out for smoothies and I showed him the place my sweetheart and I will be calling our new home in less than a week.

I breathe more easily with the knowledge that I am officially not his any longer.  Even though I have always just been mine, it took me a long while to come to that conclusion.

A door has closed and I step out into the world, feeling more solidly myself.