If I’m at home, I try to leave the house at least once per day.
I drove away four times yesterday.
First, to move things around in the storage unit, and donate my old dresser to Goodwill.
Second, to feel the pins on my body and discuss the uncertainty of the future. “You can just be,” she said as she held my hand and evaluated my pulses.
Third, to hike up the hill to the vista, again. To finally grab a map from the kiosk, so perhaps I might finally know where I was going.
On the drive back, I talked about the donation center, which had once been our office during the formative years.
“It was weird being inside. I had sat and worked right there in one spot for five years and now there was a pile of garbage. I felt like one during most of that time, so maybe nothing had changed.”
Fourth, to walk to the bluff at sunset, to watch the crows fly from their eucalyptus perches toward that sunset. To talk about song lyrics.