breaking thru
It again seems foreign to strike out words here. Time has gone tick-tocking along and living has become more important, more favorable. I’ve been soaked up in life like that muggy moist air before a past due rain. Feeling it. Smelling it. Breathing it. And tasting it.
I wonder as I break the silence, who I’m breaking it for. Is it my endless need for words concrete to remind me of a place and time? Is it fear that those who haven’t heard will have forgotten to remember us? It is wanting others to share of taste of my/our here and now? Maybe it’s Jen’s utterances of longing - for words, for writing, for bittersweet emotion to carve words from. Then too, maybe it is just time.
We’ve been here in this place for a month now. Should you wonder to know, it’s only recently that we’ve christened a comfort here that resembles that feeling of home. That is to say Jen and I. Because the boychild had no question in this place, no discomfort, no fear. He walked in the door and was home. Thereafter he was off to make the neighborhood home as well. And he has succeeded. He has created a network of friendships that he claims as his best group of friends ever.
The Jen and I needed more convincing…err…coercing…err…time. Yes. We’ll go with time. There can be no other just explanation. No other possible reason at all.
We jumped and danced and hugged when we found the place. We chased the new landlord down and around to secure it. We hugged again with exploding happiness when we dropped off first rent and picked up the keys. We’ve gleefully explored and cherished the new ‘hood. Meanwhile, we clashed and thrashed and tossed and turned, trying to find our niche here.
It’s comfort in the truth of this reality that breaks my silence. Safety and security and happiness. And a chanced re-discovery of the Jen and I as us. Sharing this moment, this heart-exploding feeling. Celebrating a love that chances re-discovery. In each new place. In each new experience.