snapshots.

the waning moon at sunrise, cappuccinos after work, touching the gods at bedtime, and learning to say good night again.

petting other people's cats, churches on every corner instead of starbucks, wondering what car i'll end up with, trying not to get the accent and still saying "y'all".

being called "miss" by old men and "ma'am" by the rest, reading in the mornings while eating oatmeal, watching favorite old anime in the evenings, letting the teddy bear steal center stage sometimes, flirting with women in backseats, steel-etto nail polish and a waiting jar of purple hair dye.

laughing at work, the lingering sadness that sometimes shows up just before sleep, unremembered dreams, pen and lined paper, the magazine article they want but that i haven't figured out how to write yet.

striding through the little town with a city girl's pace, clomping along like a sore thumb, halfway back in the broom closet, and the co-worker who recognized it.

the promise of independence, the need to not waste time, saving up for the tattoos, wanting to be perfect, being too self-centered to ever be a good friend, loving the adventure of starting over again, deer running across the road and vultures perched on the peak of abandoned houses.

the suitcase i am still living out of.

prayers, and magic.

cold chapters

everyone's life has a plot. i believe this. we may not understand the flow of it until much later, but there's a reason behind every twist.

back when i was a housewife, my hubby and i did weird little things, like not turn on the heat during the winter. it made things uncomfortable sometimes, but it was the pacific northwest. we rarely froze.

it was an odd little practice, but because of it, this week without electricity hasn't been all that bad. the house temperature has never dipped low enough to bother me, and cooking out on the little rv stove has just made me nostalgic for my camping days.

but it's been hard on my folks. they're older, the cold makes their bones hurt. daily tasks suddenly made complicated by the ice stormn and its aftermath would've taxed their strength, maybe to their limits. as it is, eight days of this isn't an adventure for them, and they're considering a strategic retreat to a motel.

i, however, am fine. i seem to be particularly suited to a life without electricity. this is still a vacation, one with a chill in the air, but still, easy enough.

it was a good thing i came back to kentucky when i did. maybe even necessary, as it turns out.

and when the power is finally restored (and i've had a shower, yikes!), and things are back to normal, then i'll resume my job hunt, and my attempt to rebuild my life. that will be soon enough. winter apparently had one last thing to say to me, but soon i'll turn the page. soon i'll start a new chapter.

it will be a spring story, soon enough.