Impatience

Three weeks ago I put the last of my NYC “stuff” out on the curb and hoped for my neighbors to recognize something valuable there. The next day I landed in Colorado with one suitcase, a cat-carrier and a whole lot of trust in myself, in Joseph and in Newton’s first law. I had long been moving steadily forward and I didn’t expect a simple shift a few miles west to represent any perceivable external force that would slow me down. Right.

And here I am still in motion. I bike on a cute teal ten-speed and drive with the top down in a sexy red Miata. I recognize the voices of the Colorado Public Radio announcers. I know folks about town, have appointments for volunteer gigs, and have made friends with the postman, who — with the same route for 26 years — knows just about everything about everybody in the neighborhood and seems willing to share it. On Friday night I wore heels to a CSU donor social and on Saturday night I wore sandals and hugged the curves on a go-kart track under a barely perceptible moon. Last week I bought heirloom tomatoes from the farm stand down the road and today chatted with the entomology student who was identifying brilliant dragonflies in the CSU test gardens. I am out and around and in motion.

I am grabbing great hunks of Fort Collins and sifting through it to find the bits that will make this new place feel like mine.

Sometimes I am impatient. It isn’t always easy to be testing the grounds to see if the earth below you shifts with the weight of your footsteps.

Yet on Sunday, when Joseph and I danced a few steps in his living room to no particular music (though I think the rhythm was somewhere between The Doors and Cuban Salsa), I had to concede that I am willing, now, to match my rhythm to another. Bumble as I may, it’s nice to dance close.

When I am impatient to have my path, a recognizable one where my feet fall firmly, I recall the miracle of germination. It takes a full three weeks of the right warmth and light for a variegated-leaf salmon flower impatiens to even stick its head above ground.

Advertisements

12 comments on “Impatience”

  1. So wonderful to read your beautiful writing again! Happy for you!

    • Kristin: Gee, thanks! I have really been away from my writing for a while… hope to get back soon and THANKS for the digital hug in that respect.

  2. Its a nice photo! And a nicer pace of living you describe. In partnership a reaffirmation of being.

    • It certainly is a different pace than da Bronx! As freaked as I was, arriving in NYC, by the voluminous traffic, I am sometimes freaked here by the lack of it! But “all good!”

  3. Wow, Mary Ellen. Your writing makes me really imagine all corners and people you’re meeting in your new life. Enjoy everything God is giving you.

  4. Your writing is beautiful! Welcome to Colorado!

  5. Best of luck in CO! I will miss you!! I din’t know anything about your new adventure. I hope that you didn’t have any flooding where you are now living.

    • Thank you, Jeanette! We are high and dry, though nearby there are high high streams. (Will post on the storm soon)…

      Few things could have pulled me away from Riverstone… but I moved for love.

      I still work for Riverstone PT 3 days a week from here!

      Hugs from here!
      mes

  6. This is an inspiration for a happy launch into something new.

    • Thank you for reading! Yes, a happy launch! Appreciate your return read — found your blog late last night and marked it as a good place to visit!


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: