Building Space For Nothing

Every month I sit down and start writing. I write a sentence or two and then I just wander off into whatever life has to offer me. I wander into a book or a television series. I busy myself with a phone call or yard work. I dive deep into the pups at the humane society or take my own two for a short adventure. I take advantage of every moment the minis want to spend with me, whether it is a dinner date or a quick hello. And I adjust to my two words of my home in Tacoma and my work in Port Townsend. All of these moments, all of these points in time pull me from whatever I am writing and give me the perfect excuse to leave the writing for one more day, one more month.

So here I am, months later, with a clean screen to write. I would love to break down the past few months with all the details that occupied my world. The adventures I took, the people I met. Including the hardships and the triumphs. It really wasn’t that momentous. Life was just happening. Time passed and life kept moving forward. The past few months has mainly been a time of quiet reflection. I have been able to travel. I have been able to have Wednesday mornings to myself. I have been able to appreciate all the things that unfold. Most importantly I have been able to breath. The to do lists don’t get completed and life doesn’t change. The New Years Goals don’t really matter. What matters most is to take time to enjoy this time and place. Even though this has been a time of calm, I have missed my time at the computer. I have missed the quiet space my brain gets when I finally sit down to write. I have been focusing on letting all this transition happen. So much of my identity has been wrapped up in the day to day of parenting. So much of who I am, who I was, is these two minis that are becoming men. I don’t really know who I am without them. This is such a huge transition in my life. As my nest became empty, I moved to Tacoma. As they move into their next phase of life, I am figuring out my commuting and my communities. I am peeling away a huge layer of who I am to find out what comes next. I am redefining my role as a mother, as business owner and as a partner. Nothing in life is perfect but everything in front of me is mine. I am trying to sit with all of this. While making sure I step forward with confidence and compassion.

The past few months have been an adjustment. I have shed some tears over the memories and the time. I have said yes to things that pushed me forward. And said no to things just so I could be quiet. I am open to what lies ahead, I just feel like I am moving on unchartered territory. This is a transition that doesn’t have a definitive moment. This is a redefining period of life. I feel like so much is about saying good bye to what was to make room for whats to come. I want to find a way to take all the memories and lock them into a permanent album. I want to take with me all the movie nights and girls nights. All the early morning dance parties and mandatory walks. I want to l carry all these pieces with me.

I have been trying to find time to do nothing. My to do list doesn’t get any smaller but my walks got slower. I am trying to just enjoy sitting in the sun with my phone in another location. Letting the dogs run and the season change. The chaos of life will always be. But I am trying to take this quiet time as it works for me. One walk, one phone call, one deep breath to get me closer to the next layer unfolding. Allow the time to be what it is in a place I know nothing about.

The past few months have been fully appreciated. A few months ago I was on one of my last walks with my dog in Port Townsend. We turned up our road and I looked up. The Northern Lights were shooting across the sky. I stood there in absolute amazement for the gift to see this spectacular dance of color and life dance across the sky. The other day I was heading to Tacoma. I got stuck at the Hood Canal Bridge. I was annoyed for the inconvenience in my day. But as I was sitting there I looked up and saw a pod of Orcas. There were at least six of them. I was in absolute awe. And suddenly my time at the bridge was no longer an inconvenience but a gift. As chaotic as life can be there is a lot to see when we just stop. What I needed was time. I still need time. I need an excuse to just feel the highs and lows. I need space to cry over nothing and everything at the same time.