From Thursday: Morning
I lay in bed, and watch as the first weak rays of morning sun seep through the cracks in my yellow curtains. It is bright, beautiful and silent, but for the gentle sigh of my border collie turning in her sleep on my floor.
And with the sun comes another day.
It's Thursday September 26th, 2013.
I've been awake for awhile, watching the light creep across my ceiling and illuminate the new day.
My head is full of the plans of moving and the plotting of packing.
Around my room is hung my laundry, plaid flannel shirts, socks, jeans turned inside out, clean sheets awaiting dryness so they too can be folded and tucked in with the other things I am taking with me into these new phase of my life.
New phase of my life.
I look around my small cabin, the one my father built for my mother, as her studio; the wood stove in the corner is forged with his welded seals, the walls are filled with my mothers creative touch, and that spot over there against the east wall where the sun is now streaming in, that's where I came into this world, into my fathers hands on a blustery dark spring equinox night.
Of course the walls now are filled with my own things, pictures of the people I love, snapshots of blues dancing and road trips and ticket stubs from various adventures; inspiring words are scribbled in my wild handwriting and tucked against the wood, a map of the world is tacked to my ceiling, it's edges worn with wear. My best actress awards hang high on my east wall, reflecting the light. They won't be coming with me, not physically at least, too much glass and weight for the plane; but everything they mean, all the hard work, support and recognition of my incredible community is something I carry with me always. And it's something I will take with me silently and joyfully into this new extension of my life.
The days of September, have slipped by me in a torrent of work, rain, emotional searching and plans. It's been a lot. I have found a lot of my own personal walls have come down. My own vulnerability has been raw. But my faith unshaken.
I have less than one week left here in my mountains. My best friend said it, the other night as I was driving her home, after she had asked what day I was leaving and I replied with Monday, she said quietly into the dark: Ewww.
Yes, I know, it's soon. But for me, even though it is leaving my family, my friends, my stars, my cabin, my pup, my car, my mountains, my comfort and my sky; I am going because this is my adventure. And somehow I know, that deep down in my heart that this is what I want, no, need, no, crave, to be doing.
It's challenges are unforeseen. I know it will test me and try me and love me and challenge me and grow me and heck, anything else it wants, to. But I want it. And I know, that with a crap-ton of faith, a lot of common sense, a lot of passion, good friends, a faithful God, a lot of heart, a good smile and a little money anything is possible.
I will get up in a few minutes and pull on my carharrt vest and my boots and drive over to where I have been training my moms horse for the past month and work with him before the wind starts up again.
I have a box of my books to mail to myself, addressed to my new Manhattan address.
Sweaters to fold, bags to pack and pictures to tuck into manilla envelopes so they can come with me. A lunch date with my best friends and tonight my blues recess family will descend upon my town and dance until the stars are dim and the laughter is caught in echo along quiet streets hung over silently with a half full moon. The best send off I could ask for.
So this is me. Excited, daunted, thrilled, delighted, unsure, terrified, happy, content. Trusting.
But for better or worse, there is a flight out of Denver on Tuesday morning and I will be on it. And come Tuesday night I will be living, officially, in New York City.
