those daily near-summaries, with the pictures interrupted by the excerpts of the music that played as I drove no less than 6 hours in the rain and the fog every day. What I was going to do was talk about how the driving itself was what I needed – how making it to Niagara Falls was fine and all, and seeing something like that up close was moving in its way, of course, but going and going and going – just leaving, being gone, alone, was what I needed, just like I thought,
and just like I thought, as soon as I crossed into Maine from New Hampshire it was exactly what I expected it would be when I smacked it onto the top of my childhood list of “places I absolutely have to go or else,” and when I made the (spontaneous, probably dumb) decision to add however many hours and however many fuel-dollars and however many miles to my drive and go to Acadia National Park, everything was perfect. More perfect. I ate lavender and rose macarons for every meal on Friday because I got lost every time I stopped the car to try and do something else and on Saturday I accidentally forced myself into a 15 hour drive that ended with me breaking a tooth (again) and on Sunday I woke up at home and planted a container of bush beans and on Monday I started training to take over my immediate supervisor’s job.
I’m 30 now, and happier than I have been recently. A shift happened sometime, and I have some thoughts about that (Saturn return! Aries season! The conscious decision to not be a grumpy news-reading piece of shit all the time! Who knows!). I’ve been spending a lot of time in the woods, a lot of time trying things I should, if I would just listen to myself, be afraid of. I have written pages and pages about what it was like to be me as a child, and me as a bigger child, and me as a small and increasingly less small adult.
I am always lately actively resisting the urge to shave my head.