It's been 7 months. I'm not sure I have ever been away from this space for that long. The thought of ending the writing crossed my mind at random points - 'what a silly project that was' I thought. Or was it writers block? I couldn't find the right words to write down.
But now I'm here. And I think I have found them.
Nearly a year into Asheville and we decided to veer off somewhere else. The opportunity came out of nowhere and with surprise to us, the final decision to pack up and go was not a hard one. We left behind jobs we disliked and an overpriced apartment. Sadly, new friends, too. But, honestly, it was harder to always be working for the weekend. And the weekends never lasted long enough. Better work options seemed bleak in that town- moving away felt easier. Yesterday evening I heard a lyric by Feist that resonated with me- ' I know more than I knew before. I didn't rest, I didn't stop…' and I thought, damn right girl- that is how I feel about all that.
Mountains are a constant for us. We followed the Appalachians about five hours north to the foothills of Virginia and moved into a 200 year old farmhouse tucked away in the Shenandoahs. Kyle's new position brought us here as he knew he needed to get back into his element. He needed to get his hands dirty again- I feel the garden and greenhouse environment are his 'soul offices'. He has so much passion for them. I'm envious of him because I can't wait to find mine.
There is a therapeutic element to his job and mine as we interact with groups of individuals with a range of disabilities at different times during our week. The social scientist in me is loving these new interactions with people I initially thought were very different from me. Turns out I was wrong- at the core there is no difference. Human beings have emotional hearts and are pretty similar in the end as we universally have an innate desire to feel validated, loved and free.
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A maintenance employee came over to our house the other day to fix molding in our bathroom. He's an older, hairy man. Nice and gentle. Heavy smoker. I can smell it on him and hear that raspy cough that accompanies that habit once its reeled you in so tight there's no way of escaping. Anyway, he lugs in many different types of tools and a can full of white paint. Outside he sets up his saw and cuts molding pieces for the different areas that need fixing up. He works and works and works. He spends most of the day in the bathroom fixing the specific areas. At the end of the day, I came back inside just in time to see the final product as he was finishing up. I was impressed. You are so talented! I tell him. He laughs and I can tell he doesn't necessary believe in the compliment I gave him. But it was true. He is an artist to me. He gathers his tools and puts them back in his red truck. He lights a cigarette and drives off. I imagine him going back to his house to let his dogs out- first grabbing a cold beer from the refrigerator- thinking about making steak and potatoes for dinner.
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I'm understanding how my environments play such a deep role with my personal creative process. The character of the space I live in presently is inspiring to me- after all, I felt the energy to finally sit down and write again. I'm anxious to start taking pictures with my 'big camera'- and go through with building up my photography. I'm excited to round up some new music and to cook with new spices. I've even started dreaming about a baby. First time in four years. I'm not even sure when the right time for that will be, but the idea doesn't seem as outlandish as it has in the past.
