Inside My Head

With an hour to myself the other morning, I intended to clean out the guest room closet. It's rarely been opened in the three years we've lived here, so I knew there had to be things I could get rid of in there. I was unprepared for the life it held, particularly an accordion file of paper memories...ticket stubs, engagement announcements, wedding programs, maps of hikes Lee and I have taken, a book of advice handwritten by my first graders (who are graduating from high school this year!)...and a whole box of letters Lee and I have written in the months and months we've spent apart over the past 10 years. To borrow a phrase from my sister, I quickly spun into a state of emotional vertigo, tears falling...looking back, looking forward, on the edge of change.

There are 12 days left until I step onto a plane headed east, and I've reached the paralyzing state of overwhelm. I'm flitting from one thing to the next, but accomplishing very little it seems. I've got a list of things that need to be done, and a list of things I'd like to get done, and there's this whole other unwritten list of the daily business of living stuff. This is an uncomfortable place, this middle land, but it's the only place where my life is really happening. Moment by moment I'm gently reminding myself to live right here because this desert story isn't quite over yet. I don't want to miss these last few days, this chance to squeeze a few more memories into this chapter. I will continue to do the next thing that needs to be done (and hopefully get to a few things I'd like to do), but most importantly I'll endeavor to reign in my heart and mind, keeping them firmly planted right here just above my feet.