she giggles restless

“I didn’t mean to impose but… I am the ocean”
- crackhead from the saltan sea

The process of letting go is a strange and almost seductive one for me. I tend to crave change, maybe a result of the 54 houses I’ve lived in, but I have made lovers out of objects and places and circumstances just as much as the people that accompanied them.
I love the stories I can tell about my things and the stories they tell about me. But lately I enjoy the letting go even more. I adore that last embrace that knows just how lucky we are to have known each other. The assurance that we are more than our stories, more than our collections of things. I am smiling a lot. The sky is like frosting and the leaves are love notes and I can’t remember ever being this grateful.
I had my moving sale this weekend. I lit Temple incense and played Vince Guaraldi’s Charlie Brown Christmas album. I served hot apple cider and cookies. My most precious belongings were grouped and priced, coloring every surface. I marveled at the way just the right person would come along to buy just the right thing at just the right time. The lady who just got a new office at the Food Bank needed a lamp and art for the walls. The old man bought a CD player for his son so he would quit stealing his. The girl that couldn’t figure out where she knew me from, who decided we could be sisters, bought almost every piece of clothing I had. The woman who had just left an abusive relationship, who was signing her new lease in an hour, bought a bed and two chairs. As she was leaving I took the wreath off my door and gave it to her and she started to cry. She told me how scared she was to be changing so fast and I told her about my plans to travel the country with my kids and she said, “you give me hope and confidence… we can do this.” The funniest part is how when one person needed help with something, another person at the sale would be able to help. I was taking apart a bunk bed, ever so slowly, when a man ran to his truck to get a drill. An older woman needed help loading her couch into her van when a nice young guy just happened to be there. There was always payment offered and it was always refused. It was as smooth and delightful as Vince playing, O’ Tannenbaum. It made me wish I didn’t always have a sale when I was leaving a place. I should start having them when I get somewhere.
So, for those of you that have been asking, here is a rough sketch of my ever changing “plans.” (They’re really more like treasure hunts.) I am moving to Colorado. I’m still going on tour, mostly this spring and summer but I’m planting my feverish roots in Denver (or Boulder). At this point, the timeline just depends on whether I make one of their slam teams or not. I will tour more if I don’t make it, less if I do. (Also: I’m currently recruiting other folks who are ready to hightail it out of this blood red state.)
My kids are really excited. They’ve never seen mountains and I assured Kavi that mountains don’t fall down and that they have grocery stores and malls in Colorado. My grandmother offered to buy me a warm coat. My boss told me he always kinda wondered why I lived in Oklahoma and told me a story about Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. It seems as though it really is time. I’m moving in with my mom until I leave and will live in the RV until I decide I need to get a place. It’s funny to me to be leaving a situation when it is still really good. For the most part, I love my job, my house and my daily life. I’m not fleeing. I’m just growing. I just keep asking, “How does it get any better than this?” and the Universe chuckles and says, “let me show you!”