Rooted, I used to think.

Profile - Archive- RSS
Notes - Email - Diaryland

Jet Lag - Saturday, Feb. 22, 2020
The Day Before Japan - Monday, Feb. 17, 2020
In the Alpine - Wednesday, Feb. 12, 2020
Zoa - Monday, Feb. 10, 2020
Nine Months - Monday, Feb. 03, 2020

Wednesday, Jan. 22, 2020 @ 10:56 pm

“Close your eyes and place your hand on your lower abdomen,” she says as she walks around the full studio, the yoga mats nearly touching. The collective breath in and out.

I stand there and feel my womb, the softness for which I have long been ashamed. The fertility, the source of wisdom. I silently cry, tears falling from my jaw line onto my collar bones. I’m sorry.


We are making love. I watch his eyes rove over my body, hungry and intense.

“Your body is perfect,” he says.

You. I love you.


We sit in our respective apartments one evening, the rain falling outside. He sends me a message.

You make me feel very special.

I like you in the rain and covered in chalk and in the snow and in a dress.


I meet my sister and our childhood friend at the movie theatre. We sit together in a row and watch the movie, and then after I hug them both. Press my face against theirs. My sister kisses my cheek and tells me that she loves me.

I travel home across the city so full and happy. I took her for granted for much of my life. Was critical of her choices. I’m sorry.


I meet the girls at the climbing gym. There are five of us. We belay each other up the wall, and then someone starts talking to a single guy and then somehow I’m off spending the rest of the night climbing with Florent who arrived from Paris last week.

I climb with him for two hours. A stranger. We save each others lives over and over. He holds me on the wall while I project a route. I cheer him on when he executes an elegant move. He’s young and skinny and is encouraging and kind. When he hears my response to his question about what I do for work, his eyes widen. My ego loves surprising people.

The girls come over to say goodbye. I am invited to go skiing on the weekend. I belay Flo up one last route.

I gather my things and walk towards the door of the gym. Sitting there and smiling at me is a man from my sailing lesson. I grin and say, “Well, hello there sailor!” I sit down beside him and we talk at length while I slowly don GoreTex for my ride home. He talks about how he’s continued with sailing and has joined a racing team. Relaxed conversation about this and that. I lean against the wall and laugh with him.

All of this. I created all of this. From nothing.

My life becomes richer each day. I never knew that I could have this. Relationships. Friendships. A sense of belonging. Community.

I never imagined feeling fulfilled.

I never dreamed of this magical of an existence.


I cycle home in the rain. Daffodils hang their heavy heads against the steady downpour. The chandelier installation under the bridge sways in the storm winds. Cars splash great heaves of runoff against me. Nobody hears me singing:

So bright, the flames burned in our hearts,
That we found each other in the dark.

Roots | Shoots