Last night I woke up from a dream I don't remember, and wrote this down:
"I've left behind the weight of my past, and while I'll never think of this place as home like the beach is home, I feel more comfortable in my skin than I ever could there."
While I'm tempted to edit it into something more flowing, I'll leave it since I have the excuse of being almost completely asleep when I wrote it. But it's so true, and the loss of that weight has done amazing things to me, and especially my urge to write. I sat down after work last night to work on a story I'd been tossing around in my head, one I'd already run by my most delightful friend Carolyn. But when I started writing, I realized it was something totally different. I put on my music, stuck my headphones one, and let my fantastic husband deal with the kids. And I wrote. And wrote. And wrote.
When 2am rolled around, I forced myself to stop and go to bed, but there was still so much there I wanted to get down. I was afraid I'd lose it if I slept on it, actually, but I needn't have worried. When I woke up, I could still see the precise smile on Alex Archer's face, feel the thrill of Jaymes first realizing she's going to take a huge step towards growing up, and hear Leigh's laughter...laughter that sounds a lot like one of my girlfriend's laughs, now that I think about it.
I miss my beach home, always having sand in the sheets no matter what, the way my hair smelled after the salt water and sunscreen dried in it, and even the sight of seagulls flying over head constantly. But I've traded it for dark, swooping hawks, beautiful, distant mountains in different shades of blues and purples everywhere I turn, and a new springtime smell...the mountain coming back to life after a long, wet winter. And all of those things inspire me in a way I'd never feel at home; too comfortable in my element perhaps, to take the details in. But here my eyes, used to flat horizons, long stretches of straight roads and scrubby, windswept trees, are constantly drawn to, and amazed by, the endless rolling green fields, towering trees, and mountains topped with clouds.
Here I am myself; here I am a writer.