Staring out a window in Houston yesterday, I found myself wishing for the simple life of a storm cloud.
Be water.
Be evaporated.
Be a cloud.
Be a big cloud.
Be around other clouds.
Be so much yourself, you change the sky.
Cry.
Storm.
Crackle with energy.
Fall back to earth.
Be water...
It's a pretty, simple path. No right, no wrong, no mistakes. No worries about where life is going, how the story will end. Just.. rain.
A week ago Friday morning, the person I was living with in Dallas asked me to find another burrow to hide in for two weeks. Just out of the blue, just... poof. Shelter evaporated.
I called friends; one offered a space to land for the night. In Georgetown. Another offered a place to crash and recover for the two weeks; or longer if I needed it. In Houston.
So I carried down my laundry basket packed with not-unpacked-from-the-last-move, neatly folded clothes to my car, and started driving. 3 days, 14 hours of driving and 3 tanks of gas later, I'd visited my mother, spent time with a friend and my brother - to end up on the doorstep of an atheist ex-boyfriend.
He showed me an entire room I could have to myself, with a bed and a clock, a quilt and a closet. Across the hall waited a bathroom with my own towel. Outwardly, I cried spring rain tears while exhaustion raged with tangled thunderstorm emotions and gratitude in my core.
Last weekend, I drove to Dallas from Houston to pick up my brother and cleaning supplies from the old burrow; then on to Ada to see Mom. Benny and I arrived late Saturday night to find Mom was still present and cognizant, but dealing with a 24 hour bug. She hugged us and told us to go see The Avengers movie. When we went back Sunday, she asked about the movie, Benny's job, where I was living. She was weak and skittish, but there were glimmers of the mom I most love in the person Benny and I visited.
Afterwards, I drove Benny home to his apartment, and I made my way to Houston.
This week has brought two interviews for possible positions, and air heavy with the possibility of rain. But also quiet time for me to covet the life of a cloud.
Be water.
Be evaporated.
Be a cloud.
Be a big cloud.
Be around other clouds.
Be so much yourself, you change the sky.
Cry.
Storm.
Crackle with energy.
Fall back to earth.
Be water...
It's a pretty, simple path. No right, no wrong, no mistakes. No worries about where life is going, how the story will end. Just.. rain.
A week ago Friday morning, the person I was living with in Dallas asked me to find another burrow to hide in for two weeks. Just out of the blue, just... poof. Shelter evaporated.
I called friends; one offered a space to land for the night. In Georgetown. Another offered a place to crash and recover for the two weeks; or longer if I needed it. In Houston.
So I carried down my laundry basket packed with not-unpacked-from-the-last-move, neatly folded clothes to my car, and started driving. 3 days, 14 hours of driving and 3 tanks of gas later, I'd visited my mother, spent time with a friend and my brother - to end up on the doorstep of an atheist ex-boyfriend.
He showed me an entire room I could have to myself, with a bed and a clock, a quilt and a closet. Across the hall waited a bathroom with my own towel. Outwardly, I cried spring rain tears while exhaustion raged with tangled thunderstorm emotions and gratitude in my core.
Last weekend, I drove to Dallas from Houston to pick up my brother and cleaning supplies from the old burrow; then on to Ada to see Mom. Benny and I arrived late Saturday night to find Mom was still present and cognizant, but dealing with a 24 hour bug. She hugged us and told us to go see The Avengers movie. When we went back Sunday, she asked about the movie, Benny's job, where I was living. She was weak and skittish, but there were glimmers of the mom I most love in the person Benny and I visited.
Afterwards, I drove Benny home to his apartment, and I made my way to Houston.
This week has brought two interviews for possible positions, and air heavy with the possibility of rain. But also quiet time for me to covet the life of a cloud.
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