I’m throwing up these (story) posts not as often as I’d like but I have been slowly chugging along doing what I can when I can. Lately, the what I can when I can are giving me a hard time, so I’ve slowed down to almost a halt. (Honestly, it is making me pull my hair out crazy and I’m riddled with anxiety. Riddled. No one is here with a gun to my head, but for some unexplainable reason the gun is at my temple ready to blow. What the hell? Alright, I’ll take the crazy down a notch now…)
Yesterday I’m in the city for a prosthetic tune-up and before I have to keep my appointment I arrive early so I can walk around with a coffee, from 49th Parallel, in my hand and take it all in. It being the uneven sidewalks, flowers in bright ceramic pots, people walking their dogs and the sunshine that has pushed past the clouds. It is unseasonably warm here and I want to breathe deeply and not take anything for granted.
I want to live here. I’ve made plans with Scott. When we’re older, when the kids are grown I want to live here. It feels like home. Here in this part of Vancouver where tall trees line the streets their roots stretching to the bottom of the earth, where the houses reach high and have windows with beautifully crafted panes, and solid welcoming doors. The streets are narrow and there’s little parking, but who cares because you can walk to wherever it is that you need to go. It’s the peace that settles on my shoulders when I visit here that I’m addicted to. I can take my book around the corner to one of the cafes that live on 4th and get lost. I like blending in and being just one of many sometimes. Where I live right now is home too and I love it here, but one day…one day….
I’m walking peering in to store windows words rattling around in my head. They come so fast. I have words for what it felt like when I was given permission to leave my hospital bed for the first time. I have words for how the snow swirled above me as I was driven home for Christmas. I need to release the words, to free them. My chest is heavy with the weight of them. I’m buzzing with coffee and inspiration. My step is lighter. Just wait until I get home!
I finally touch my fingers to the keyboard and the words are there, but I’m having trouble connecting them. They’re squished together in my brain and I can’t separate them long enough to form a coherent sentence. I sit and I sit and I sit. I get up, make a phone call, pick up a book I can’t get enough of, put it down, sigh. I return to the computer and my shoulders slump. I sigh again and this post comes out instead.