Liberation Slurpee

The day I moved out I bought a newspaper from the gas station. I never buy a newspaper. As I left I looked across the street at the 7/11 and thought about trying a Slurpee. I've never had one and at the time it sounded like just the thing to summarize my independence. Not sure why...maybe the idea of trying something new - breaking out of old habits - showing myself that it's all a matter of perspective - I don't know, but I didn't get one.
Every day for three months on my way to and from work I passed the 7/11 and thought about that Slurpee. It gave me great comfort to know that validation of my autonomy was so readily available, yet the timing never seemed quite right.
~
This morning after packing up the last of my things and putting my friends' house back the way I found it (as best I could) I locked the front door and stood in the driveway for a moment. Three months seemed like such a long time last November and all I had then was a solid sense that, whatever happened, it would be ok. My only thought, as I looked around, was that half a year had gone by since our decision to separate and so many different paths could have been taken, so many decisions made differently, but I was going home - to a better home with more acceptance and possibility.
My liberation wasn't really getting away from a worsening situation at home, but learning to live better - to be better.
~
I stopped at the 7/11 on my way home and bought two Cherry Slurpees for $3.16. I took them into the house and handed one to Greg who was a little more excited than I thought he would be. We stirred them up a bit, braced ourselves for a cold delicious thrill and took the first big slurp of Cherry Slurpee. It was disgusting. We dumped them out and went back to town for doughnuts and coffee which were very good.
Sometimes liberation isn't all it's cracked up to be.
Forgive me for making a lesson out of a Slurpee but I think it shows that sometimes anticipation of the unknown is better than the real thing. Perhaps doughnuts and coffee really are what's best and it just takes a Slurpee now and then to appreciate them.

I'm not a grown up

Our little experiment is ending. Thankfully I'm going home. However, I think the hardest parts are yet to come. There is much work to be done, much taking things for granted to be gotten over, much life to live.
I've gone through a great growth spurt and now it's time to settle for awhile and see what happens. Whatever it is, mostly I think what I want to know for sure is that I'm doing the best I can with what I have...that when this particular life is over I can feel like I really used it.

Mountain Dew for breakfast

It's Saturday morning and I don't feel like moving much, however there is much to do. Most of it involves thinking, planning and making decisions that will affect the rest of my life. Yet somehow I don't feel anxious.
I no longer have the overwhelming deep 'knowing' that everything will be all right like I had last fall, but I seem to be left with a calmer version of it. Even then I knew it wouldn't stay forever but it was a lovely feeling. Life is cyclical and this last rush of new ideas and energy leaves me with a great deal to reconcile.
The last 6 months changed me. I'm becoming part of a 'We' instead of an 'I', which to those who've known me must seem like something of a miracle. I am beginning to understand a bit of why we're here and what I'm supposed to be doing. I'm waking up - from a long restless sleep that was full of questions which never seemed to have answers.
Yet with all these changes there's so much of me that feels like it always has. I still hate to wear shoes, I still say 'ya know' too much, I still have Mountain Dew for breakfast.
But now I see that I'm part of a progression, part of a world that's leading to something incredible and that my own little existence matters to the whole.

Lyrics

My life goes on in endless song
above Earth's lamentation
I hear the real, though far off hymn
that hails a new creation
Through all the tumult and the strife
I here it's music ringing
It sounds an echo in my soul
How can I keep from singing?