The Long Slow Leaping of Things

This is the slowest leap off ever.

There are so many questions and very few answers. This is a difficult time for us - we are breaking new ground. Trying valiantly to figure out which way to turn next, where to look for our joy. Now it may seem obvious where joy lies, but I don't think it really is. Or you might see it, but the path is thorny and often perilous, mentally and physically. And there's all that damned real life to worry about.

I hear my friend, my old, often disappeared friend sermonizing that real life things mean very little next to joy, and while I agree, there are still realities to contend with. And questions. Yes, I know there is always more - but when?

I am struggling - though not unhappily - with what's next. Baby? No baby? Travel? Move? Leave the business? What then? What's next? How and how and how?

I have let far too many no's block me in my path, and while I certainly have no intention of letting that continue, I still feel as though I am fumbling around in the dark. The road less traveled comes with no convenient map (or GPS) and I wander around trying not to get lost. Not that being lost doesn't have its own aura of adventure, but after a while in the woods, you just want to find the inn and have a shower, you know?

I have been handling the latest round of cruel fate with more aplomb than even I knew I could muster. Some of it is simply the maturity that comes with age and motherhood, some of it is simply acquiescence. Somedays I just get tired of fighting the unfightable and I just surrender to where it is now.

Currently now is stuck at home, since Ez's truck has taken this unbelievably inopportune time to die. With no car and lamentable public transit (the other day it took me over an hour to go to family place - a 7-minute drive) Nahanni and I are plodding through tasks at home, tearing apart closets, wintering the garden. Today we raked sodden leaves and pulled the dahlia bulbs in fat wads from the dirt. When it finally got too cold we came in and I made hot chocolate with marshmallows which she got in her halloween bag. We sat at the table and I watched her pluck each tiny blob of marshmallow from its frothy chocolate bed and slurp spoon after spoon of the milky brew with a look of utter contentedness on her face. We chatted, we ate pizza left over from last night (not part of my new 'what-would-Dierdre-do' eating plan) and we laughed and had a lovely time which would we would not have otherwise had were we not stranded at home.

You could have worse days.