i emptied my purse all over the floor. a bag i hadn’t used in probably a year, one i pulled from the back of my closet because i couldn’t find the green one i really wanted for this evening. this friday of firsts. this every other weekend that now spans 48 hours of time alone.
‘this one will do’ i thought as i dumped the contents onto the carpet. often i feel this hurry up aspect to these weekends. hurry up and get here, hurry up and leave, hurry up and come back to me. this is new to me, this side of single motherhood. when he is gone from me i feel as though part of me is missing.
it’s every other weekend that i step into new shoes, new handbags and head out to find myself. who am i again? am i these shoes? am i this purse? of course i’m not. but it’s fun to play like i’m a grown-up.
i am the steps between, as my heels lift and carry me down the sidewalk. i am that gap of air, fresh and new.
the other day river and i stepped out the front door and he announced to everyone and no one in particular, “the air is perfect!”
last year i threw my heart into hope. and at the same time, i discovered that hope notes were being hidden, stashed, handed out across america in a sort of belief that we as humans would remember to find our way. hopefully, with hope, we’d remember that we are all in this together. that we are all the same.
around the time i spread my hope notes, my photos, i also wrote down words. plain and simple. at the end of the summer i tucked them into my bag for just the right moment. then suddenly, (not so suddenly, it was actually very much like slow motion) life as i knew it had changed.
i changed my purse with the season. i packed my bags.
these words hibernated in my closet all year. i thought they needed me to deliver them, but what i found was that they were just waiting for me to read them. to remember them and hear them.
i have no idea where they came from, but i’m glad they found me today. the day i scattered the contents of my bag on the floor. the day i walked away and came back at midnight to find this one; this beauty in the space, floating on top, waiting for my eyes to see after almost a year. i almost didn’t recognize my handwriting, so much has changed about me.
my words sat there on the floor, smiling. looking up at me on the day that i am most needing to remember the beauty of space. because right now i am completely in between. jobs, schools, loves. and there is beauty here in this space in time. space in air. space in nothingness. it’s only in this space that i’m learning the beauty of patience.