I’m proud to report that three weeks have gone by now, nearly three, and I haven’t felt unsteady or crash-like. The way I put it to my best friend in Colorado over the weekend was that “I feel suspiciously happy.” Then we talked about how someone possibly put a curse on me for a minute… but that’s another story.
I write a lot about how human interactions can slap around a life to the degree where it’s not quite the experience we’d prefer. I also weave in some pleasantries from time to time.
It’s lovely feeling light again. I spent the weekend strolling around Central Park smiling at all of the beaming waves of tourists and locals alike embracing the first real winter kisses floating from the sky. I caught snowflakes on my tongue. I celebrated one of my best mate’s birthdays. I decorated a tree with an Aussie Astronomer visiting from Uluru, sipped whiskey and made snow angels. Then there was the part where I licked gooey goat’s cheese off my fingers listening to a trained Chef explain why cheese from Switzerland is some of the most authentic in Europe because the milk is all local.
I can confidently say I’ve never had a weekend quite like the one I just had. So here’s to healing, again. No therapy this time around. Just an incredible tribe of lovers who probably don’t realize how wonderful they each are. Hopefully one day I’ll think of a way to let them know.