Friday, August 20, 2010
I feel naked without my tools - the paints, paper, silks, and books.
I caught myself ready to open a box so I could make someone a present.
There's a relentless quality to the moving process in these final days.
The place is in chaos but there's always a quiet retreat somewhere.
Usually that place is anywhere but inside my head - too much to think about.
Perhaps if I'd begun sooner - left my job a month ago instead of last week.
I've thrown away my work clothes, those black skirts and jackets.
It's not that I'm tired of black but some things are just plain finished.
My favorite silk jacket had lining so worn it couldn't be fixed again.
I wore it just the same but not every day - probably just once a week, if that.
Sometimes I needed the feeling of elegance and comfort it gave me.
The tiny rhinestone Canada brooch on its lapel dreamed another life.
The country I return to is not the one I left behind.
I have no illusions.
I'm not the person I used to be either.
I know I'm kinder and more compassionate
But don't know if that's a natural result of the added 30 years
Or because of all the people and places I've grown to love in the US.
I can guarantee I'm not complacent but I never was.
On the other hand, I've developed too many comfortable habits.
Change comes whether we embrace it or not.
Laughter is an excellent antidote for fatuous obsessions.
I saw myself reflected in big windows every morning.
Dark glass doors opened at my approach.
I wonder if they saw me as I left.
I never looked back to check.