blur / by Christina Rosalie

Diptychs are contagious.

Wishing I could show up here every day, but this week: everything has come pouring down. Highs and lows. Utter crazy, uncertainty, heartbreak, possibility, sweetness. It's almost more than I can stand, so I escape into the fleeting instant of watching an oriole swoop and land. Such sudden orange among the green. Yes my heart thunders. Yes to this life.

Still, I brim with impatience for all that is unfinished and unknown. My breasts still ache (no one tells you this about weaning, but it's not pain free. That is also an understatement, fyi.) My heart aches for things that are irrevocably different now (with people I love. Sorry about the vagueness.) My quads ache for want of use. I haven't been running much and miss it something fierce, but there are so many things now up in the air with the tilting, diving flight of the orioles that running comes last. It shouldn't, but there it is, a fact. Time isn't on my side this week.

Next week: JUNE.

When did that happen? How? Has anyone else felt like this year is plunging ahead at a vehement pace?

Tonight heat crowds the room. 90 tomorrow. The lawn is still unmowed (another thing fallen off the end of the priority list this week) and I am applying for things and chasing down dreams, and damn, I know I'm being vague but tonight it's the best that I can do.