The house is quiet. The bus left ages ago, a yellow blur along the road. The hours stretch out slowly before me. There is no haste and no need to rush. I pad from room to room just taking in the light. I drink tea on the deck and i sit in silence, not going anywhere. The lists in my head grow quiet and i watch the shadows dancing. Baby deer wander through the garden. They ignore me and move up into the woods, slowly grazing.
I savour the last days of summer light, hot sun soaks through to the bone. I drink more tea and find my tori amos cd's. It's been a lifetime ago since i listened to these but when the music starts memories come flooding back. I try to work on a book that's been lying waiting for over a year but it seems I have forgotten how to write and the words come out all wrong. I drink more tea and think maybe i'll bake some cookies.
Slowly slowly settling into a new routine with time to myself for the first time in a long time. It's like wearing in a new pair of jeans. The ones that come home stiff and unyielding and way too dark from the store but after a few months of walks and curled up on the couch watching movies and cheering on from the sidelines during football games and bending to kiss a grazed knee and wiping soup and flour and streaks of paint and a few hundred washes ... they're softened and light blue and have become a second skin. That's what I am waiting for. Trying on new jeans.
One day at a time.