In a matter of days life has returned to normal. Pretty much as quickly as it was first upended and turned around. Such is simply the way of the world. Timelines straighten out, vegetation grows back, life goes on. Your little world maintains its unique homeostasis.
Apart from a few new limitations here and there, I find myself essentially where I started off the month, despite all the unrequested upheaval in between. Though, admittedly, with less of a weight bearing down on my mind at all hours. What I’d identified as emptiness before now sits in me a bit like lightness. Maybe even like freedom.
The world as I know it continues to shift and transition around me. Experiences and people come and go, and I’m deep in my rhythm as if each hour is merely a rotation on the elliptical machine. I feel the stretching and contraction of my muscles, the air that brushes my skin, the sunlight that beams down onto my face—all of it time growing and breaking around me as I move through it.
What I do wish for is water. The rocking of waves against my body or beneath my feet, the sound of crest after crest crashing into the sand. I can’t think of anything better at the moment than a delicious hot bath after my long shift. My two-by-two shower might clean my body, but definitely not my entire soul.
But I can wait. Water will come eventually, and someday I’ll get to take a nice luxurious bath—ideally with a few candles and a bottle of wine. In the meantime, it’s one foot in front of the other and the subtle sound of humming I didn’t realize was actually coming from me.