May disappeared in a thick mist. Sunny days came and went, and I preferred when it rained. I love the sound of heavy droplets incessantly pattering against the tin roof of our building. Lucky to be on the top floor. I lit candles, different colours for different purposes, while I sat in my jammies and wrote profile after profile to bring in a little spending money for summer.
The city is still a mess.
Now my work is finished, and yesterday I finally found my flow again when I spent the afternoon in Jackson, Mississippi; 4,000 words pouring out of me rekindling memories of guns and swamps and sleazy strip clubs. Still, I feel weak and shy, a hermit recluse sensitive to the daylight. But I must come out of my hiding place now. A long holiday is coming up – a month with various family members – and it excites me as much as scares me. Better start packing; we’re off tomorrow night.
Last weekend we went to visit our dear friends in Kidderminster. We went on a steam train along the River Severn and life feels very different up there, among woods and wildflowers. Perhaps we are beginning to plot our escape.
Read a blog post today. It was nice, it had the usual message of ‘let things fall apart, that’s how they come together again’ sort of message. But there was a particular passage that tickled me and I wanted to keep here for a later day.
“I know mountains grow because of their fault lines. I know lakes turn that gorgeous shade of turquoise because of their silt. I know jewels are formed under pressure. I know trees can grow through rocks, and rivers can break canyons …
I know the earth smells fabulous after a hard rain, and I know she breathes. I know out of the destruction of forest fires, new and stronger ecosystems can emerge. I know there is life in the deepest depths of the ocean and her tides can soften stone.” (Jacquelyn Taylor)
It will be good to get away for a while. I’ll go breathe in the German mountains and swim in the Swedish lakes and completely refresh myself. I will nurture my relationship with my book, offering it its due time and respect. I will regain my strength and stop being such a sorry-ass wimp. Once I accept that I’m a wimp and that’s okay, maybe then I will finally stop being one. Ain’t that always the way?