7:45a Morning Pages ~ Mount Pleasant, SC
I am at Tidal Grounds coffee shop, a cute local indie coffee place, drinking my drip from a real, albeit small cup. They are all decorated for Christmas. I keep forgetting tis the season. Where is my Christmas spirit?
I have been on #walkabout six weeks today, and I am only just slowing down. It has been a mad dash to see and experience as much as possible, and to fit in visits to important friends and family along the way.
Now I feel like I am taking my first breath, relaxing and waiting for the word that Julia is in labor. It could be a week or longer, or it could be today. Then I go again.
In the meantime, I am exploring the Charleston, South Carolina area as a potential for relocation. It is less than six hours from Vero Beach and Richmond, and less than eight hours to Huntsville. A nice, central location? I aim to find out.
My first impression is that it is sure warm for the last day of November. It was in the 70s all day yesterday, even after 10p. The trails are swampy and buggy, nothing like hiking in the Pacific Northwest. It isn’t exactly exciting me. I have gotten used to crips, cool air and rugged peaks.
But there is more to living than hiking, and I could go weeks without a decent jaunt. It sure would be nice to not brave myself against the cold. Besides, it isn’t forever. Just while Grayson in young, I suppose. I really don’t know.
So again, I beg myself to answer the question, the million dollar question – What do I want? I could do the boho chic thing here, explore my softer, surreal nature, be a little kooky and a lot more feminine.
I do feel a release of tension with the idea of warmth. Not exactly like the tension that comes from the NoVA area. The PNW has its own tension – still a sort of striving and business, especially near Seattle. It feels like Spokane is still trying to prove itself. Or maybe that’s who I was when I was living there.
This area feels slower, like when I moved to Florida for the first time, before the imperative of my work gripped me and my marriage fell apart.
I could be a writer here. What do I need to be a writer? Relaxed, artsy, airy environment that soothes and embraces me. Colors that liven my heart. Warm, friendly atmosphere that invites you to kick your shoes off. Lemonade and lattes.
I’m just spouting what I feel right now. All I really need is a new place where all of my old habits cannot sing to me. Minimize distractions so I can focus.
Will Edward live here with me, and will he provide for us? So I can go to school and write and be my best, authentic self? I floated the question last night. He wavered, having not really thought about it, but ultimately seemed open to the notion.
What myth am I living? The Cinderella story, the Rags to Riches tale belongs to me. I came from a poor, abusive family and worked hard to make something more of my life. I had some lucky breaks and some hard knocks along the way. The end is not yet written.
Where is my Prince Charming? I am the orphan Annie, waiting to be adopted, loved and cared for. In the meantime, I am doing the best that I can, believing my day is still to come.
I thought I would have another cup of coffee, but the caffeine from this one is already hitting me squarely. I think a second cup would be too much. I enjoy too much caffeine like I enjoy a hangover. Not.
But how will I hang out and research? I thought I might go to the library, but it is already nearly 70*. It was sixty-nine at six-thirty this morning. This would take some getting used to. and a new wardrobe too! My current gear won’t cut it.
Which reminds me that I will want to change before I start exploring. I don’t have to reset the car to get my suitcase, though. I can just dig an active tee out of my jog bag and change into my jeans and sandals. Tie my hair up maybe? Maybe not today. Find a park or a beach area, drive around and take in the sights. have the Outback Walkabout special for dinner?