I thought I’d be able to jump right back. All purposeful and action-y and bouncy. Armed with newly reset passwords and sleeves rolled up. I thought I’d just throw open the curtains, and light would enter and gulps of fresh air and with one full breath I would set dust bunnies all in a tizz. I thought I just would. One day. Some day. Which day. How many times.
I hadn’t planned to fall down this way, down this vortex. Unannounced, Safety belt denied , all by myself. It sits so heavily on my shoulders, there are times I can walk only in circles. Maybe talk in circles too. A sadness that pitches low and constant and is barely perceptible but in the blink of an eye rises to the surface with the rawest of howls.
A ripple effect that extends far and wide. Even as I scrub the kitchen floor and find another snack for the little ones. Even as another day passed with me thinking all day about painting and then not.
I found the dust bunnies all clumped together, heaving up and down in gentle snores, oblivious like. My google account stretched languidly on a sofa, comfortable in the certainty that even spammers go away if one is quiet long enough. I tried one day, some day, a promised day, by Saturday. I couldn’t .
And then today. I am trying yet again. That is my intent, to try. Painting, stuck fast into my soul, these six months I have only been watching it slip by. I realize how destructive it has been for me. So, I am just making a conscious decision to paint again. And it only seems right to type it down.
To try to paint. Maybe dust bunnies won’t really mind so much.