This Fish Rides the Bus (1/23/11)

The last couple of days have been incredible, thanks to you.  You have opened your arms to me, although I’m not sure how much of a choice you had.  I made up my mind that it would be “you and me”, and so it is.  You should know by now, but in case I haven’t told you, I am in love with you.  I spend my days taking you in, your sights and smells, food and friends.  My nights are filled with dreams of our next adventure together.  You never sleep, but you don’t seem to mind that I do.  You hold still for my incessant photographs and don’t seem to get annoyed by my lollygagging. He has been helping me get to know you.  It’s because of him that I see you clearly.

I am learning how to get around.  Riding the bus is a whole new concept to me, but I’m starting to get the hang of it.  It’s not just as easy as stepping outside and hopping on a bus.  I’ve had to learn to understand the schedule and to figure out which side of the street to stand on so that I travel in the correct direction. I’ve learned to count out my bus fare ahead of time and to keep it in the same place, my right front pocket, every day.  The bus doesn’t discriminate or care about the kind of day you are having, and the bus waits for no one. 

I live in a tiny house with two men and three dogs.  The yard is bigger than the house by far, but is perfect for enjoying the sunshine, when around.  I like sitting on the porch in the early morning, when nobody else is awake, watching my breath, smelling the fresh morning air, being alone.  I’ve made a habit of showering when no one else is home, so that after, I can run outside, in nothing but a towel and slippers, and watch the steam rise from my body.  Cracks me up every single time.  The house has wonderful old hardwood floors that creak in certain spots. I’m learning where to step to quietly sneak around. Two of the three dogs are his.  Hounds.  They are sweet and cuddly and make me miss my pup.  He cooks for me every day, and almost every meal.  I enjoy anything he makes, it’s all amazing, and I love letting him spoil me with his treats and beautiful plates.  I’m starting to miss cooking a bit, though he’s such a pro I’ve become self-conscious about my own abilities.  That will pass, I’m sure. For now, I’ll just sit here on the couch and watch him dance around, singing and cooking my dinner. I adore him.

Confidence is a Jumping Fish (1/20/11)

With a deep breath, and a smile on my face, I can start to believe that the adventure has begun.  I am breathing, drinking, eating, smelling and seeing all new things! It only takes a few blinks, and one really hard pinch, to know that I am not dreaming. I am living. It’s hard to believe that I boarded a plane just forty-eight hours ago, and left the only state I’ve ever called home, for a place in which I’ve spent a mere five days. The initial draw, this overwhelming desire to be here, is still of unknown origin to me.  I couldn’t explain it some years ago, when it first appeared in my mind, and I still can’t put my finger on what it is now.  I am however, optimistic that it’s a feeling that needs no origin, just validation that it, or rather I, was right.  I feel as if I’m supposed to say that I jumped blindly.  That I made some sort of crazy, bold decision to just up and move away on a whim.  And while this is a true statement on some level(s), there is now calmness about me, a serenity of sorts.  I feel as though I’m finally where I should be.  There are times in life where a feeling is so strong, so undeniable, that the urge to follow it must be satisfied.  This is one of those feelings, and has become one of those times. 

That said, I wasn’t hasty in my decision making, nor may I allow myself to be in the words I write now.  This. Is. A. Big. Deal. And should be treated as such, with the respect a move like this deserves. I know that there are tough days to come.  I know that there will be times I will awake wishing I was home.  I know I will miss my California life. I am a lucky, better; blessed girl.  I was raised on solid ground, a foundation that will be stable forever, and I know that without that love and support, I may never have been in tune with myself enough to feel this urge in the first place.  For that matter, I may have never had the confidence to take this huge leap.  I find extreme comfort in knowing where I come from and even more in the fact that I can always go back.  Family will always be family, home will always be home, and I know that I am simply fulfilling a long thought out desire with an open mind, open eyes and an open heart.  Here’s to a new place and new adventures, conquered one little fish at a time!

Landing in the Sea (1/18/11)

I frantically disembarked a plane and made my way to you, to be in your arms. I found myself running through the airport, my heart beating nearly out of my chest. I couldn’t get to you fast enough.  Sixty-something days since I had seen you.  Countless hours had been spent dreaming of you, of our life that was to begin in this very moment.  I told myself; when I was here last, that if you met or superseded my expectations, I would loyally return to you.  So here I am, making a bee line toward baggage claim, hoping not to cause a scene large enough to be noticed by security, as that would surely send me into an outburst worthy of padded walls, or at the very least, questioning.  I was pursuing a long time dream of following my heart back to you, and had allowed him to become as big a part of it as any.  In the same way, he was there, standing at baggage claim so coy, smirking even, and allowing me to be a part of his life and dreams. I saw him before he saw me. I was at the top of the escalator peering down on what I was about to enter into.  He looked so handsome, arms crossed, standing so tall and unwavering, leaping head first into a new chapter of unlived days.  Instantly, that look, the calmness about him, and the overwhelming sense of joy I was experiencing, was forever engraved in my mind.  I took just a moment to breathe, to take it all in, and then proceeded. I was trying to not look like a complete lunatic, and I was failing. I took mental notes from a peripheral glance.  There were soldiers returning home from war, mothers and fathers reuniting with their children, and families; clearly ending a tropical vacation.  To my left, baggage claim, suitcases of all sizes and colors steadily spinning on the carousel, almost all adorned with a ribbon or bright tag for easy identification.  I could feel a chill in the air as it rushed in every time the automatic doors opened to let someone out to you.  The air was crisp and clean, which I found especially refreshing after drawing in recycled plane air for several hours.   Sensory overload became an understatement at this point. I was moving clumsily now, laughing while unsuccessfully holding back tears of joy and, when I reached him, I nearly knocked him over.    He held me in a way that welcomed me and warmed my heart. I looked over his shoulder and saw you.  I was right where I wanted to be.  I stood still in my new “big sea” and hugged a new “little fish”. In this moment, staring at you, in his arms, I could think of nothing better.

Butterflies and Fish (1/18/11)

The sun wasn’t up yet, but my entire household was.  In an effort to not forget anything, my suitcases had been packed for nearly two weeks and placed in the car the night before last.  I was in the expected “stay busy and keep moving so you don’t cry” mode and delayed the inevitable tears, even as they were beginning to build.  “Just grab your purse and laptop, kiss the dog, kiss your parents and get gone.” I must have said that line in my head twenty times while wrapping up the last minute things I’d sworn I’d already done. Finally, I forced myself out into the cool morning air and onto the driveway.  There, in the driver’s seat of my car, sat my “big” little brother.  He was chipper and sweet, a nice surprise for such an early morning.  I knew he was going to get to me to the airport without any snags.  I hugged and kissed my parents for the umpteenth time and then, feeling like a small child, faced them and proudly declared, “I love you!”, before hopping into the car I adored.  Off we went, moving down the freeway as quickly as the sun was rising, singing songs we both knew, in between big gulps of coffee and bites of a cranberry orange (my favorite) scone.  I tried to multi-task as much as possible to keep my brain busy.  I put on my make-up as he drove.  We sang, and ate, and drank.  One tiny snag, and twenty minutes later, we arrived at John Wayne Airport earlier than anticipated. (Note to you folks in Orange County – the 55 S carpool lane will allow you to merge onto the 405 S carpool lane.  There is just one problem with that. The double yellows don’t open up until after the airport exit!)  As he pulled into the “Departing Flights” lane I swear an entire flutter of butterflies migrated straight to my stomach and began flying in erratic circles desperately seeking an escape.  They made me queasy.  I took one last large swallow of my caramel macchiato, as if to drown them momentarily, and flung the coupe’s door open.  I popped out of my seat, like it was on fire, and yelled over to my brother, who was pulling my bags from the trunk, that I had no idea how I was going to get all of this stuff inside of there, pointing to the luggage and then to the ticket counter across the curb. He laughed a playful, “you’ll be fine” laugh, hugged me and wished me well.  Instantly I was a pack mule, dragging two very large suitcases, an oversized, overstuffed purse and a ridiculously heavy laptop case, behind me toward the automatic glass doors.  I stopped, dead in my tracks, bags nearly crashing to the ground, and watched him drive away.  Realizing I was headed from one portion of the “big sea” to another, I waved farewell to my car, my brother, my life. And in a blink of an eye, that “little fish” swam away…

First Little Fish

Due to a momentary lapse in resources, the internet included, I have been writing for this blog, but not to this blog.  That said, I have some work that will hit the blog wall today, and possibly for the next few days, that was written over the last month. I will date these posts with the date on which they were written until I am all caught up.  At that point, the blog will go live.  I would also like to say a quick thank you to all of you who have hounded me to get this blog up and running.  You are my true inspiration and motivation to keep writing!  It's a big sea... here goes the first little fish...