A lot of my life happens in my imagination these days, even though there is an actual reality occurring right here in the present moment.

I have a restless grief tinged energy over the lost time and space of now as I constantly seem to lose my gravity, the ground seems to disappear, floating into dream space, I struggle to pull myself back into the orbit of this body, this breath, this life.

It is a strange weightless space, this fertile void.

My husband lost his job back in July.

The abrupt and violent rocket launch with its blast, pressure, g forces, stomach dropped through the floor, catapulted into an emptiness, painful, shocking, bright at first and then a vast dark unknown.

The fertile void.

It is a double life in a way or a half life. Glass half full or half empty?

Part of me is living the daily routine, the usual stuff, here in Forest Hill, MD.

The other part is floating out there like a dream craft waiting for ground control to report where the landing pad is located.

For awhile it seemed like a job in Arizona was likely, so I spent hours of many days imagining myself in the desert, the sand and heat, the cactus garden out back, a swimming pool, days of long canyon hikes. Not to be.

Then it was Chicago, after that Milwaukee, maybe Tennessee.

Floating and dreaming each new life in my head.





We do not know where our next place or next thing will be.

But it will be. And there is a life here now. My writing always occurs to me as proof that I do in fact exist. I have a location in myself. That is true.

Stephen is cooking dinner. We will go feed and walk our dogs now. Tonight is the homecoming game at school, so Avery is off to that. There is laundry waiting to be folded.

And just now the song by Modest Mouse pops into my head, my head always a world of its own.

“And we’ll all float on ok…”

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