I love the look of a blank blog window, on which to post any thoughts, any feelings, whatever is on my little brain. The sun is shining today, high of 60 degrees. The preview of spring does crazy things to me. I start getting restless. Did you know that Chesa is swahili (sp?) for "dancing feet"? It is, and appropriately so. I've lots of thoughts these days about finding where I belong. It stems from all sorts of events and circumstances that really just suck ass, and that I'd rather not gripe about, but a huge part of it is a funeral I attended a few months ago. It will likely be the hardest thing to explain in my life, the one thing that can't be rationalized, or considered part of the greater plan. I stood looking into a coffin at a man I never met. I searched a face for some sort of memory, or answer to a question, but it never appeared. I watched people mourn for this man, people he knew and loved, and felt even more robbed of something. I listened to the taps play on this beautiful hillside on a ranch in Texas, was handed the flag from a grateful nation, and yet was jealous of a nation that knew him perhaps better than I did. I was his only child, so the honors were mine to recieve a folded flag that waved over the services of putting him to rest. I look at that flag in my life here, so far from that ranch, and am still moved. Slowly, without my notice, the feelings of sadness for what has been missed, and what will never be has been joined by feelings of longing to belong somewhere, wherever that may be. Along with all the fabulousness that makes me up, there is a wanting, a need for home. Maybe it's been there all along, the search for home, but with the arrival of spring, I want to plant flowers, and sit on my front porch drinking ice tea. The Catch 22, and maybe that part I hate the most, is that 2 and 1/2 years into a relationship with a man I love, and there's no plans for porch sittin'. Am I suddenly THAT girl? The one that hopes for forever? I like to think of it as more the search for validation, the reasurrance of life, and the meaning therein. I am being torn apart inside, with the longing for a home, a place that I fit, and the love I have for a man that I can't imagine living without. Years ago, when living lonely in another town, for another radio job, I wrote a song with a line in it..."I wish I didn't know I was in the wrong place, then I could be content..." That line has haunted me for the last few days, and I wonder why. Spring will be here soon, with new life beginning, and a change in how we dress, and how we think, and it always makes my mind waunder. There is no easy answer, and simple solution, so I do what I know best, working hard, loving with all I can, and being hopeful that doing the right thing is still the best choice.
In my restlessness, I'm glad for blog ears to talk to.
toodles