Cohiba

Days morph together and the never ending Spring threatens to spur forth Autumn whilst I rest in the whispers of Summer. There are thanks to be given, apologies to deliver, excuses to settle. I have yet to express my gratitude to the many people who supported my trip down Boylston St. I regret not doing so sooner, but I couldn't. I still don't think I can. I sat with my feet in front of me analyzing the paint wearing off the porch floor, the red ring forming in the bottom of my wine glass, the tiny leaves growing in the pots descending the stairs. My mind slowed as rain drops tickled the ground, clearing the air. Alone with my Cohiba, I settled, closed my eyes, realized the state of my soul now. I was overwhelmed with love, hurt, anger, excitement, thinking thoughts I just might vocalize if provoked, wishing very much for the external push to bring them forth, as though letting them out would satisfy me in some sickening way. I need to grow. Loving my job is not enough. I need to meet more people, teach myself and learn on my own time, push my physical, emotional, and mental limits and see what happens. Running is not enough anymore. Slowly I become more in control, more aware of my choices, of the passing minutes, the calendar pages turning. I feel capable and able - to succeed at another job, to take on a second job, to learn something I've always wanted to, like bar tending or real estate. But feeling able doesn't make anything happen. And oh, how I've enjoyed settling in to this life, getting to a place where I am calm, quiet, confident. Dissatisfaction produces change, and I'm so satisfied, so happy. This time the change needs to come from a need to not change my life or make something better out of what is already really great, but to continue to add to this life that is already beautiful beyond belief...