Despite all of this I know it is a lovely time of year. The leaves blossom like hungry flames; soon they shall be drifting in tireless masses to coat the blown-over lawns, the damp treaded streets, the rooftops of our hasty vehicles. I've opened the apartment window wide, to hear the cicadas yell at one another over the constant moan of gas-fired horsepower. I think, there's a lot of hope here. Work is finally picking up; I can feel purpose slowly begin to strengthen me.
My time at home was surprisingly centering. I hadn't been back since December; it had been too long. I felt, as I allowed the time to run around me, that I was finding myself again. That perhaps I was exactly where I ought to be. Heidi got me out of bed every morning, demanding peetime! food! walk! before subsiding to her pillow for additional sleep. I didn't see many friends, just a few, and that seemed right too. I spent more time with my brother and Julia, just being and appreciating. My mom and I talked, never enough, but somehow in ways that calmed me. I hung out with my dad, and visited my great uncle. I was willing to do anything that would take my mind off of myself. Not only that, but I found a practice partner who was both honest and humble, understanding and accommodating, and who fed me lots of food. Our daily practices were exactly what I needed to begin dancing again, and what I needed to affirm that I want to train every day that I can.
Now in Durham again, it's not clear that I can hold onto the progress I made at home. And so I allow the days their passing, and wait for my next move.