Happy Birthday! Last October, right about the time I went AWOL (observe the cone of silence), I received word that the apartment I had been waiting a year for came available. AWESOME!!! And it was. My children were “over” the transitional program, pacing like inmates, asking when we get to move into our “own” place. So we scrambled.
It almost felt like another “get thee out of Egypt” moment. Wasn’t this fun? It’s not like I had a dragon breathing down my neck this time. I should be genuinely enjoying the moment in time where, for the first time in my life, I am moving to my own apartment, by myself, no romantic partner. Halafreakinluya. Yet, I was in shell shock again.
I didn’t have any time to prepare. I had just started fall semester at school. The political climate at work was about as stable as a game of Jenga after 15 minutes and a few shots of Patron. Then there was this thing called a social life that was picking up momentum. Never-the-less, we packed up and moved into our 2 bedroom 2 bath apartment and furnished it with our blankets and boxes. It took a good two months before we had furniture in all of the expected places. In fact, our Christmas tree was a statue of Quan Yin. We all decided that was the best choice for a variety of reasons. The largest being that three-quarters of the previous year’s tree lights has blown after being used as a floor lamp for 11 months.
By the time we were furnished the earthquake hit at work and game pieces went flying in all directions. To the best of my knowledge the new Jenga tower isn’t faring any better than the last. I am personally on to other things. Hence, another birth. I just had my birthday on March 22. To some degree I still feel like the cord hasn’t been clipped tying me to the last chapter. Here I stand, this awkward tether to my transition period, scissors in had, getting ready to push headlong into the next.
What an adrenaline rush this is. My sister, Anna, often says, “I couldn’t write my life, I’m not that creative.” I stand on my balcony with my coffee often thinking the same thing. If someone had sat me down as a kid and started telling me the story of my life up to this point I would have claimed them the best fictional writer I had ever had the pleasure of listening to. Of course my literary experience was Dr. Suess and Shell Silverstein. What did I know? Two out of a million writers isn’t a large well to draw from. On the other hand, one could argue that they did author my life.
In the word of one of my favorite childhood mates, “Onward!”
Here is to another year of discovery and adventure. Hopefully there are fewer Suess and Silverstein moments. This year will be the first year, my dear readers, that we travel together exploring independence from abuse, emergency shelters, and transitional programs. The month of April will be a month of catch up. Then it will be time for another birth, that of the official Sisters website. Hoorah!