Expanding and contracting

Like the floorboards in my house

Like the ice forming and melting on the pond

Like the hands that swell in the morn.

I find myself in flux

Each day a new perception

Knowing we are here

We are home

We are safe

We are not.

Breaking free of the cement

That anchors my feet like the children's swing set

Deep within the damp ground

All I know

Is that I know nothing of what is to come

But I propel myself forward

But I must rest from exhaustion.

The worried gaze follows me closely

And the day that gaze fades

Will be only the beginning of my work to be done.

This move has been nothing like I envisioned it to be. I envisioned this gloriously full life full of all the things I saw us doing here in Vermont. I foolishly, or optimistically, assumed that getting out of Louisiana would be the hard part and that after we did that, it would all fall into place perfectly. As it does, that is not at all how this has happened. But you know what? That's okay. I'm, we, WE are used to really working at what we want and how we want our lives to play out. I'm trying to honor my body where it's at but also push it just a little bit beyond what it is willing to do for my mind. Trying to get things all back into alignment with the other is hard (and crazy looking) work. One week I'm on, one week I'm falling apart, usually physically. But I've never doubted that I have got this.

What are you doing for yourself today? What's one creative thing you can do to remind yourself you are a human, beautifully flawed but also beautifully perfect in your journey? Also, take your vitamins and necessary prescriptions and drink your water, okay?

Katelyn Demidow

society6.com/katelyndemidow