Is the dry season ending?

Words are beginning to form again. I’m not at a state where full sentences are flowing, but words float into the space between my ears in small pieces. I haven’t had a dry season from writing that lasted for four months before. So much has changed, yet so much still feels the same. Funny how that works right?

I saw a severed wing on the ground as I pedaled home. Vultures circled above in an ominous pattern. The wing sent me straight back to Piura. Walking aimlessly through the streets and passing warped houses with iron wrought windows, I was stopped by a wing that was missing its bird. It’s unnerving how fast the body fills with old emotions that feel as fresh as their first feeling. I have never known loneliness like I did in that place. I don’t think puberty even held a candle to Piura. Now, the quantity of life flourishing around me is so overwhelming that it is beginning to choke out the quality in some regards if I’m not careful. There are English speaking teenagers to love, fight with, and fret over. There is a job that challenges my truth, tries my patience, and humbles my pride. There is a roommate who is an answer to long times of prayer. There is a school that calls me “Ms. Robinson” on occasion, or dork depending on the day. There are people to love and loves to fear. There is truth to be sought and thoughts to be challenged.

There are so many stories to tell and some are true while others may be exaggerated realities, but that line in a writer’s mind can get fuzzy.

Advertisement

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.