i think the only time i truly feel compelled to write is when i am in the midst of transitions that i don't readily fathom, though they are usually borne of the choices I've made.
im transferring, leaving this tiny town. i made my bed here, made it my home & laid down for some rest. a few months from now, ill be packing my bags properly and shipping out. i will no longer be the host for visitors, i will be the visitor.
last night a group of us stayed with a friend who fits like family. she is a mother to us all and we are gratefully indebted to her service, though we know that she would never ask us to return the favor in any way. as i was leaving this morning, she reminded me that soon my departure would be a little more permanent. she said any time i come back, i will always have a place to stay with her and her family.
i came really close to melting. and by melting, i mean crying. i didn't. but the tiredness of this week and the reality of my roommate moving out somewhat unexpectedly, enmeshed with coming down from the natural high of the past 2 weeks spent with great friends & i had in my hands (heart) all the feels. maybe not all of them. but something in the depths came out to play. and it knew that walking away would be more like speeding off.
this is a good place with incredible people. hannah and mary came into town from richmond and chicago and they were welcomed back in celebration. they both felt inexplicable love and swelled with gratitude. i listened to them talk about their re-entries into this town and i recognized that at some point in the year, that would be my story.
bri came over from nashville last weekend and we filled our house with as many old friends as we could. that is what boiling springs means. forget the piddly little spigot. its not the dribbling stream. its the rocks that surround the stream. that i recently found out were strewn near the waters edge in honor of a young woman named pam.
its the good rocks that surround us. the ones that allow us to scale the walls when we fall into our own deep wells. the good rocks that we throw into lake hollifield on nights when our realities are far too tremendous. that what makes this town so sacred. that when we are here and for as long as we remember, we have soldiers that guard us and keep us company.
im taking my time on my way out. i withdrew my application from a job i LOVE, one that has been feeding my soul for 3 summers. just so i could say goodbye slowly. so i could walk past the daffodils and know their names. stroll down the trails at the mighty broad river in my own time.
im not there yet. time has not hit its mark. but as i watch the gait of those who walk ahead of me, im taking notes (perpetually). i am picking up the things i want to take with me. building a small shrine to the last 7 years of growing up and re-growing up. retrying things for the first time.
walk well. pick your feet up, pick your head up, and walk well through this season.
