I feel myself on the edge of something huge. A frontier. I feel the spaciousness, the room to expand. I feel myself still nestled in my blanket-cocoon, not quite ready to step all the way out. Simply looking, and feeling full, to the point of overwhelm, by the looking. The same as when I was pregnant, and I could eat a meal first by looking at it, feeling sated for many good minutes before the urge to dive within overtook me.
I love my pace. I love my cocoon and how it has taught me innumerable things, as the rain drops on the window blend into rivery tendrils. I am savoring these last moments in the blankets, before stepping into the full glory and power of skin against air and sun and rain, legs bared and stretched and standing, supporting, dancing…arms reaching, lifting, twirling…hands grabbing, fingering, kneading…
Oh I love savoring the last bits of what is. The foamy, densely sweet puddle at the bottom of the mug. The lover laying on my chest as we breathe together. Packing up. Licking the plate. Eyes shining so alive and appreciative in the goodbye. Recognizing Ruby won’t be nursing forevermore, and scooping her up, squeezing her tight, savoring the smell of her sweaty head and the way she pinches and twists the nipple she’s not latched onto.
Ruby has walked a couple of times on her own now. We’ve slept apart a couple of times, too. We both have these teeth coming in. We are both starting to climb. I’m so bottomlessly fascinated by the ways we mirror each other’s learning and growth.
To know a season is shifting, so much more than a tidal swoosh. To see it ahead of time, the leaves aching into yellow, the urge to leave, certain clothes no longer appealing, ideas blooming so vast the vague outline leaves me trembling in awe. A new spirit guide emerges.
And then, the miraculous shift occurs. All of a sudden, without any announcement, she is walking, not holding onto anything but her joy tantalizing her forward. I don’t know what my miraculous shift will look like. There are these clues, these dreams, these desires and callings and glimmerings and wishings. Wings unfurling. My joy dangling like a carrot.
I am leaving my spring and summer home at the end of this month. Plane tickets have been bought. The other side of the country’s teeth gleam golden. A horseshoe toss into a beckoning smile.