Ever since last night's drive, when E and I started talking about the phoenix, and she referred to this summer malaise as my "ash-y period", I've had two questions rattling around in my head :
"What will I regenerate into come Autumn?"
"What do I have to do now to bring her into existence?"
And so, after a very, very low day, which featured a nearly three hour hopelessness filled afternoon nap, I took a shower, listened to an hour of my secret happy place piano music, and E and I went for a mile long walk in the dark.
For years and years, walking has always been a thing for us, a sanctuary. The fact that it has helped us lose weight in the past is a fine fringe benefit. So we got out there, one foot in front of the other. No promises to do it every day. Yet. But it feels like something began this evening.
On an unrelated note, I would be remiss as family historian of The Year of Unknowable Things if I didn't mention that Bug spent the entire day shamanically redoing her entire bedroom space. New bed. New sacred space. New lighting. All cleaned up. It's immaculate.
Now it's 1am and I'm up here in the tundra, dreaming of possible futures, of orreries and chess boards and Irish clifftops, and pondering the One Thing I can do to help us get there ...
Good night.
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