allisonburtch.com

It is December now.  The warmth of September has settled into the cool mist of October and November; winter has arrived, if only in our minds.  The air is cooler, and wet.  My garden is beginning to die.  The fallen leaves remind me of our fecundity, and the bizarre and beautiful mystery into which we are invited – to grow and reproduce and die.

I saw a Hispanic man mowing someone’s lawn today.  There were beautiful leaves all over the ground and he mowed over them; he had to cut the grass, of course.  Why does this made me sad?  Yeah, I know people need jobs, but it reminds me of this American tendency towards constant activity and entitlement to ease and convenience.  Those leaves were beautiful!  They deserved to be played in by children and raked into piles by teenagers.  But they are too busy on their facebooks; high schoolers are overwhelmed by options these days.

But that is not what I wish to write about.

I want to say thank you.  Thank you thank you thank you – one of the two prayers that Anne Lamott says we pray. (The other is “help me help me help me”). This is the first time in my life that, when asked “how are you?”, I have consistently said “I am good“.  For months! That goodness, I am sure, is due to my roommates.  I have had less need to journal since we moved here in September.  There is always someone with whom I can have an intimate, deep, thought-provoking conversation.

Tonight we had a family dinner.  Taylor made some vegan pizza and Sarah made some sweet oatmeal breakfast pellets. (I decided that cookies should be called pellets, especially when they are healthy, and then they should be called elven bread). We toasted each other in gratefulness, thankful for the gift each is to one another (self-imposed grammar police – fragments! too many!).

I love these women.  Chelle is the embodiment of strength and beauty.  Sarah is a force to be reckoned with.  I have become more of myself because of her. My relationship with Taylor is special.  He has seen me like no man has – and no not in a freaky way but in the I feel like dancing in the living room because I am happy and I am okay if you see me in this freedom.

Patience.  What is it?  Can you teach it?  How do you learn but by having it imposed on you? What a horrible thing to learn! And so un-American! I feel, though, that I am learning it now, whatever it is.  I am doing a lot of waiting.  To see if I am accepted at CSULB to start some Latin and French classes and Comp Lit grad work.  To see if I get the Poli Sci grad assistant spot.  For a Christmas job that I need badly. For a guy to call back. I am learning to be patient with myself.

That is what winter is about, I think.  Waiting for the darkness to pass, for the spring to come (not like I want spring to come anytime soon…I’m thankful for the temperature change), and it helps to know that my three roommates not only have my back but are running this same journey with me.  This is the most settled I have ever been.