this must be what courage feels like

I had my forehead pressed against the wall.
I was just standing there, willing my tears to go back inside.
angry, begging them not to fall.
because tears are a sign of weakness. and I try to remind my ego
that tears cleanse your soul, at least a friend once told me so.

I missed him. he was always on the tip of my mind.
and I could never push him hard enough away.
he just stayed there; an enormous lump in my throat.
so I wait a while. because the last time I cried over nothing, he was here.

but then I would open my eyes and he was still right next to me
so I was okay. and sometimes I just want it back.
we were like little kids under the covers, tickling, giggling, but cautious.
careful with one another. curious, wanting to know everything.
and slowly opening ourselves up to let each other in.

and when he left, it left a hole in my little girl heart.
and I know, I do, that I created that hole all on my own.
just something to remember him by, I guess.

so I started a new book, the antagonist had the same name as he did.
and I watched a TV show, and the hero had his name too.
such an obscure, uncommon name-- really?
god, can't you just leave me be?
I threw the book down and paced in a formal sitting room.

I can't stand being in this house
this mundane, bright, draped and polished house.
rather than groping for comfort
I escape to the trees, where the buzz of birds
hills, water, danger, solace, utter aloneness,
is absolutely terrifying.

and it feels good, to be afraid
to really feel something real.
where suddenly your pitiful sadness is completely snuffed out
by having to be aware of your surroundings
on the defense, ready for anything.
ears on fire, focused eyes, those prickly goosebump warnings
your own instinctual self-preservation.

I stood in a clearing in the forest, pondering how little I knew.
In this environment, I am not in complete control.
this must be what courage feels like, I thought.
to be uncomfortable, to do something that scares you, to be brave.
and to still be okay, still know that no matter what happens,
you have yourself, and your heart and your mind and your soul.

I am technically homeless now,
the idea of homelessness has always made me truly uncomfortable.
I have a place to sleep, but no home.
not my own bed, my beautiful furniture,
or my shiny kitchen appliances and old antique dishes.
no beautiful trinkets or pretty paintings.
no stocked pantry, no real groceries of my own.
no expansive collection of hair products :)
Home was always my one necessity,
anything was conquerable
as long as I had my house put together at the end of the day.
but I put all my belongings in storage,
and for now I just float around like a gypsy.
weightless. and it's so freeing in a way,
to not be tied to anything except myself.

the past few months have been a whirlwind.  and this morning I am finally realizing that perhaps it's all going to be worth it.  that sadness I kept tucked just below the surface that had kind of enveloped me for 8 weeks feels like it had a purpose. to keep me grounded, humbled, to remind myself how small and utterly human I am. 

I don't think anybody could see my sadness, even when they said his name, asked me how he was doing, if he was better.  I don't think anybody noticed me wince as I thought that I had no idea how he was. my pride never let me call him and ask.

but maybe that withdrawing dejection kept me busy, focused or distracted, until the time came yesterday, when everything aligned, and a new adventure found me.