Third times a charm. I took this long to find where I belong. I have not perfected the dance I am wrapped in, but at least this time I understand the steps. The music has become clearer. It uses to sound like a warble meant to be met with a tango. The beautiful croon drifting from the 45 in the corner lifts spirits and forces me to swallow all that could potentially run off. My heart is so full. I am as wired as a screw dangling from the tenth floor stair case precariously trying to find the strength to hold on before it all becomes too much. This seems so much more final. I am in despair. this is so temporary, but so permanent.
The dancer keeps on dancing, I keep on glancing. My eyes jet around the silent stock flooding the already overflowing brick pile holding us to the spot. This is where we have to be. Health gets put on the back burner until it because the black asphalt clinging to the walls like a mother clings to her child before they drift away. The feelings are mutual. i am not leaving yet, but I understand the promise that is being made by me finishing this year. I have one year left, one. I will have to delicately force myself onto the scene to secure the home up in the mountains. I must push through this so that I can travel home a couple hundred miles from here.
I have been home once. I didn’t know what I was missing until I crossed the state line and the air was so fresh I felt as though any allergies was just a government conspiracy to make me wish I were dead. I cried out in joy for the energy that suddenly transformed me toe the sparkle on the red dirt. Photos come up and remind me that I am not home. I have lived here my entire life and never felt quite as clear as I did the single day I spent in that small town. I know it won’t matter where, but it has to be there. You can’t long for something you don’t know you are missing, but I’ll tell you once you find it the sadness and the longing are tidal waves breaking the dam inside giving a damn.