I don't even know what to say anymore.
So much. So much has changed, so much going on. I hardly know how to sort my thoughts, which emotions to believe, what words to speak. I just want to get back to the baseline, I think.
My husband is out of town for work this week, and I think the strange hiatus has given me some space to sort. Don't get me wrong, I miss him like all get out and I can't wait for his return. But I think the timing of this is quite important. As I've been thinking, processing, journaling, spending time alone, I've reflected. And the fact that has shown its face is that this year has been the most different and perhaps difficult of all.
All of the normalcies have been tossed aside for the sake of something sacred and beautiful, and now new normalcies are being created. But the trouble in all this, the conflict, is deciphering the way to merge the old and new. For example, how do I cut out the introverted and creative blocks that my being so needs, while remaining in the presence of my companion. How do I drink tea late at night while listening to old school jazz and write write write until it all comes out, while simultaneously falling asleep together. How do I, do us? How does he, do us? Together? It's the mysterious merging of two beings.
I want to do this. I will not forget the artist. This year has been one of quieting her, shushing her for the sake of other very beckoning things. But I will fight for this, because it has proven to be good. Here it is again, the goodness. And it's good because it reflects our Creator. When I create, when I take the space to be the artist, only good ensues because our Creator is only good. What comes is clarity, peace, beauty, joy. His trademarks. When I create, He is creating.
This time of Aaron's absence makes me feel like I'm in college again, ignoring a paper that needs to be written and choosing instead to write the words coming from inside me. All of the sudden I'm on my roommate's most precious mustard-brown couch, under a blanket, eyes glazed over from the length of the day but mind flourishing like an ink pen. And that still feels normal to me. So here I sit, trying to merge the old and the new, living in a brand new reality.
What's normal to me is a long and slow morning filled with lava-like coffee and highly-accessorized yogurt. What's new is my kitchen and most joyful companion. What's good is both.
The Necessity: Plain, unflavored, nonfat yogurt.
The Favorites: Mostly green banana. Seedless Thompson raisins. Ground flax seed. Old-fashioned oats. Swirl of honey. Cinnamon.
The Preferences (but also the May-Not-Always-Be-In-Stock): Berries. Walnut pieces. Really crunchy granola. Splash of unsweetened almond milk.