No Longer and Not Yet...January 27, 2022

I would lie in the most perky way, if I said it didn't bother me to lose my hair. And I wear cropped pants now, in the frigid middle of winter, because I can't figure out what sort of pants fit over my prosthetic leg.

My new foot hasn't known another shoe than sneakers in like forever...and I miss my sparkly and twinkly, ribbon lace, red and gold and pink shoes, and all the pairs that I recently donated to the thrift shop, some from my dancing 20's.

But okay I giggle at these sneaky complaints, my hair and pants and shoes. Because...it feels so nice to care about small stuff, to muck around in it for awhile. For a long time, life was way too serious, too dark and tedious, requiring focus on just living, the bottom rung of that pyramid, clawing my way to tomorrow on a wing and a prayer. And I know that life is a blessing of the biggest sort. To the end of my days, I will remember the gift of waking in the morning.

And I also know that my little annoyances come more from the strangeness of it all. I understood that Julie from before. I knew what she liked and what she wanted, her desires. Now...I don't understand alot, from driving left-footed to walking with a cane to how to get out of a bathtub. I still love donuts and coffee and red wine...but I am slower and more focused and probably listen better to my body.

For sure, I am in good company...we all go through these times, when we have left one place but aren't somewhere else yet.

When we are a living breathing embodiment of Ulysses, not able to arrive somewhere new if he doesn't leave the shore. We look around, disoriented, after a personal shock or a universal event like covid...and we wonder how we will ever go forward, who we are or who we will be.

We want the familiar and the known...yet it just isn't there for us...for awhile.

And so I look to my hair and say...darling you are rocking in a boat, looking for a shore. Solid ground is out there and you will find it, along with all the merry wanderers who are bewildered sometimes...

...take a deep breath, be kind to yourself, maybe have a cookie and find a hug somewhere, keep your sense of humor and make sure to step lightly, my dear.

For as Nancy Levin says, "Honor the space between no longer and not yet."

She didn't say never...she said not yet. And I have dreams, the loveliest of dreams, for when we reach that shore together, tomorrow or the next day or however long it takes us...