Well, I am in motion.
It occurred to me that I need to stop saying “I am moving”, because that suggests that I have a final destination. In reality I have only a few stops on the journey plotted out with my final destination still very much the stuff of legend.
I left my home of the past 6 years this morning with a car-load of miscellaneous stuff and headed a mere 3 hours down the coast to my parent’s house. I will linger here for a few weeks before I head cross country in February. So it begins.
After being excited about my upcoming adventure for weeks and being stoic about leaving friends and cats and cellos behind, I reached a boiling point this morning and shed a few tears. And then a few more. A general melancholy prevailed into the afternoon, and as the sun started to think about setting, I came to the conclusion that it was time to freeze my tear ducts into submission.
To the beach I headed, where the wind buffeted me far more than my emotions had managed to. There were bunches of birds, and wild waves, and I nearly got frostbite taking pictures. Just what I needed.
Though my walk refreshed me, I think it’s perfectly reasonable to indulge in a few more wistful sighs before the day is out. After all, with tomorrow’s dawn comes the next chapter of my life and I expect the rough surf of today to wash away my footprints and present me with a fresh stretch of beach, patterned with wind ripples, lightly dusted with gull droppings, and hiding all kinds of sea glass and sand dollar treasures.