Will work for fugue

Every couple years, I move. In a little over two decades I’ve moved eleven times (DC, MD, MI, WI, IN, GA, MN (twice), IL, NY, and DE . When asked why, I usually give the old standby: “Work!”

The real reason is the seduction of a new beginning, a massive lightening of the spirit, the thrill of new opportunities, and adventures. Can I find these while rooted in one spot? I don’t know.

I think, much like romantic love, when I find the right place for us (two perfect children in tow, now). I/we will know, and then… what?

Widow’s weeds

These last few years have been a series of trials and tribulations interspersed with pockets of joy.  After giving my all in a relationship with a talented yet emotionally distant man, my heart was broken earlier this year. Unrequited love. I grieved. Six months later, and stronger, I was ready to face the world again. Something changed in me–I walked into my closet and didn’t recognize my things–a wardrobe of clothing and shoes mainly black but also various shades of grey and white. Recognizing I’m no longer that woman, I donated everything to Goodwill. My closet is now filled with a few high quality, tastfully colorful ensembles, that lift my spirit, setting the tenor for the new adventures that lay ahead.