As the days wind down in Charleston…

Charleston

Every day, I have to re-realize that I am blessed. There are many, many family and friends waiting for us to come home, back to California where the weather isn’t a bipolar king (thanks for the thunderstorm today, Charleston); back to where all shades of brown, from dark coffee to light milk tea is beautiful; back to a community who finds my work important, needed, imperative even; back to where I know I am part of something bigger than myself. But as my days wind down in Charleston, I constantly re-realize that these moments with Josh are slipping so furiously through my fingers, like water from a fossil, like the torrent rain spells of the South, like the waves of the Atlantic that come back and forth on white pristine sand so effortlessly. At least here I know that my husband will be back by the brink of morning, that every day he will come back by the brink of morning, that every day I will see him rise and fall asleep, and every day I will listen to him speak and laugh and cry and shout and dance until we leave this city. I won’t have at least that notion of him coming home to me for the next four years. Deployments are long and scary, they can last up to six–nine months (or a year), and we’ll be living apart–I’ll be in San Francisco for grad school and he’ll be wherever the Navy puts him (I’m hoping at least the West Coast). I quit my job two Fridays ago so I could appreciate these last few moments I have with him, and yet I can’t help but not worry about moving our shit out of our town home, about when he’ll get his orders, about where we’ll sell our cars, about when we’ll buy our new one, about where I’ll live in SF, and where he’ll live period. It’s silly. I want to write during this brief time off. I want to enjoy these few lasting moments with my husband. And yet, I haven’t been doing too well on either because my mind is so fractured, so disoriented.

But, at least, I’m finally getting used to this transitional life we’ll be leading. Though I’m not entirely OK with it yet, I am happy and I do realize, constantly re-realize, that I am blessed to have it. I’ve seen many parts of the world because of the Navy. I’ve met wonderful, wonderful people here. I’ve done things I couldn’t have done without the Navy. And though it really is incredibly inconvenient and incompetent at times, the Navy has given a lot to Josh and me, and I don’t regret packing up and leaving home to live this life I now lead. I’ve learned, gained, too much, though I’ve also lost many things. I just wish I could fix all these emotions running inside of me, tell them to halt, tell them it’ll be OK, tell them if you don’t fix their shitty acts now nothing will be done. I’m getting there slowly, I really am, I just wish I was there already–at a state of mind where I can fully love my husband, love myself, and love my writing. I’ve been in such a limbo lately and I’m tired of it.

At least (I’m realizing this as I write this), I am able to write expressionistically again. It’s been a long time coming. The MFA app process really has paralyzed me. I’m hoping this is a minor start to something, anything.

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