Four years later seems appropriate to state. Fours years since my last post. And I can honestly say the writing damn near ceased. The life line run dry and now even as the trickles of the one thing that I have always needed starts to flow back through me, it feels like I am foal on slipper hooves. It's not graceful and it's a little forced at times. But the proactive nature is finally returning, purple rain is on the radio, blue in green is on the radio. I can no long dance with you in our bar to our songs, but in my mind’s eye I am there feeling your black T-shirt and beer belly again.
I severely underestimated the greif I knew so well growing up. Grief is on going, we do not stop. But this time, I lost that will and fire to be without. Through that I learned to not take for granted that instinct to pick up the pen to write a new note. To savor those moments to make room for them.
Four years later, I see despite my grief I still made work. But it took four years to see the projects, to see how they exist. These are things school does not teach you. Four years later I am on a train, feeling things I didn't want to feel anymore. My pen flying, my mind and paper in a dancers embrace, back and forth. I finally see the next thing, and it filled me to know yes, this is me, i like this feeling - welcome home.