I’m going to try something different, and be a little less precious about what I write here for a bit. Write a little more, don’t worry so much about the packaging or “building a platform,” and just get that feeling of a dash into what goes here. As in, I’m dashing off a sweet missive, a love note, out the door.
I have thought a lot about outgrowing cities, because I never anticipated what it would feel like. Someone asked me recently how I knew I was ready to leave NYC; she’s mulling an escape of her own. I paused, let a weight shift in my heart, and then said, “How I fill my well is different now; I don’t need so much from the outside world.” What I need now are sunsets, quiets, conversations about families and people’s children and hobbies and daily lives, a wide horizon, a horse, a walk by the river.
Around me the trees are budding ferociously, and there is an unseasonal warmth. Temperatures are in the 80s, and the wind today was whipping through the winds. You feel the heat sink into your limbs, which are still barely thawed out from the winter.
The melody of a certain voice.