I felt a spark Saturday morning driving from the bank back home.
Gazing at the abundant and late snow on Pikes Peak, glorious blue skies marked only by an occasional fluffy cloud , the contrasting dark green of pines on nearby hills; I felt a fine effervescent tingling in my being.
The world is my oyster.
Maybe it’s a sense of the familiar in knowing where I am and how to act.
My reference points are returning.
It was rare when I felt that same sense of belonging in Hawaii. No reference points. I don’t think I ever really developed them in the same way, except for in a landscape view to navigate around the island.
Hawaii? I lived in Hawaii for almost two years?
A blip in time. Seems so far away. It’s only been three weeks. How can that be? It just doesn’t occupy that much space in me anymore except as a vague memory. Weird. It’s soft and fuzzy around the edges. Faded. I have a recording of my favorite beaches that I was going to give to my son to loop endlessly and burn to a disk so I could listen to the sound of the sea.
I pulled my little recorder out the other day. And promptly put it back. The “need” to hear it escapes me now. I hear the wind through the pines soothing me with a different rhythm. I hear birdsong and hummingbird chirps.
My stay there prepared me for this adventure. Not a continuation of an old life. Another new chapter.
My lessons on the unconditional loving part of life, lessons learned with ex-roomie-dear-sweet-friend-in-my-heart are serving me well here. I am more unafraid to be that again without attachment to outcome. To give trust the place it deserves.
I’m happy today.
Rooted in something special.