The only ones who get it

The week after next will be one year since I got in the car to drive to California.  With no place to live and no real plan.  I arrived at Mike's in Newport Beach on the 8th of August.  I had my first breakfast with Mo on her backporch in Santa Cruz on August 15.  Days later she took me north to farm and meet Em and Bebe and Nicky and Jon and everyone.  These people who became my precious family in SoHum.  I have messages saved on my VM  that make me smile or grateful...Erika saying she's closing in on a book deal.  Erin shhhmrrring....My brother repeating the word farts...  My sohum fam, one from Em and one from Jon each calling me Mama in character, with a tone of voice that immediately draws laugh-based tears.  That was one year ago.  On August 15 this year I will move in to my own studio apartment in Laguna Beach.  A mile up the canyon, surrounded by green trees.

I haven't had my own place since I officially left behind Easton, my job at the Community College, and the final remnants of life I'd created in Chestertown in May 2010.  The next two years were intermediary.  A long, major crossing.  I went to my then love Brandon in April 08 and said I want to go to California for grad school. Four years later my application is now in, same school as the grad packet that was in my hands all the way back then.  I am waiting.  Awaiting.  Primed to move, to lock things in.  This next step so timely, and so long in coming.

One night this past week I watched the sun go down with Jott on the other end of the phone.  I cried a lot and put some things to rest.  Her friendship one of the prime bounties that came from those two years in-between.  I talked to Gretchen another night and laughed the wild laugh the whole time.  This women who continues, again and again, to see to my rounds.  Bebe called Thursday and I lay on the ottoman in my room, my back half-hanging down, in the lavender-smelling orange-lit candled-air.  My fan turning, Bebe and I in communion over the passing of her mom.  Sonoma, my life with her, just one corner ago--just January--but so much living this year that it feels so long ago.  I did little this weekend other than sleep on the clear blue beach.  I swam, alot.  Finally.  I feel whole, rhythmic, much as I can connected and whole to the many different parts of all of who I am.  

In Starbucks now a dad holds his baby girl on his lap in the most tender, devoted way.  It's just the same gesture as my brother with his baby girl on Skype this morning.  Not one part of me considers my life any differently than it is right now.  Wishes that it had gone any other way.  Here I am, with me, about to go whole-heartedly after me.  My place, my book, my students and teaching, my avocation.  The beach and bike rides the sun and palm trees.  I am quiet, not in awe, just still.  I wanted everything on the shelf.  Every cake and muffin every tart and scone.  Every last treat so I helped my self.  A cookie and a donut.  Sometimes a girl deserves more than just the one.

It's quiet, sometimes, the little marks and occasions that pass.  How we are the only ones who get it, who really know.