The Truth is,

The truth is, I've been waking up very early. And going to bed early, too.

The truth is, the pain in my body only eased up a few days ago. And my levity and humor only came back a couple nights ago. I woke up the next morning feeling like an emotional fever had broken.

I've been spending lots of time in small, dimly lit bedrooms both on the road at home. All the going outward has needed to be balanced with going inward, and these spaces are cozy containers for me to do just that.

I've been bringing order to my outer world--at a maddeningly slow speed--but every little bit opens up entire worlds inside of me. Who knew that a sock drawer could be a revelation? That finding the surface of my desk would remind me that my story isn't over?

The truth is, I've been navigating my way through a hundred moments and in my best ones finding a way to be very still. So that rest and restoration can find me. So that my heart, with so many fragments still lingering in 24 cities and towns around the world, can hold it all without bursting and reunite here at home, in the space between my ribs.