A Slow Emergence

The Brooklyn version of "Two roads diverged in a wood..." Horizon Perfekt camera, cross-processed Lomo 200 film.

After making it to the other side of what felt like The Great Wall of Sickness for myself and my little ones (and the Fall Traveling Tour that preceded it), I feel myself slowly emerging, with steps that are sometimes resolute, sometimes tentative.  It's easy to overdo it at the first signs of feeling better, when the reality of the apartment disarray sets in and there are gifts to arrange and ornaments to hang on top of it all.

I'm feeling ready for some things, like:

  • dusting the really scary bookcase behind and under my desk
  • cleaning other nooks and crannies that shall not be named but may require vacuum attachments
  • a paring-down of possessions project
  • sending out lovely packages and
  • going back onstage. (I'm performing at Belleville in Brooklyn at 8pm on Thursday.)

Other things I'm not quite ready for yet, like:

  • long hours of writing or editing
  • late nights
  • big calendar commitments and
  • trips without my children.

I'm still regarding some of the things that are coming next with reservation.  I can know what's coming, I tell myself, but I don't have to like it.  But these things come in time.  The sprints and spins are best suited for the middle of the meadow, and I am only now making my way back into the light.