looking out

It's a lovely morning here in Lawrence, though quite steamy at 8:30 in the morning. I'm on my patio, sitting at my plastic table and chairs, surrounded by hostas. I got the gardening bug last weekend, did research about container gardening, and then pulled Jedsen through the gardening center at Home Depot as I picked out perennials. I spent too much but justified it with the fact that they were perennials and will last forever. And then Shannon broke my heart this week and told me they're only perennials if they're in the ground. Oh. So it looks like I'll be having lots of houseplants in the cold months...which I wanted, but I also wanted patio plants to just survive all year long. I must wish for too much.

So I'm outside writing while Jedsen's sleeping. We have officially been together for 4.5 years today--we're spannies, as we say. We span time together. He is such an integral part of my life--even though we only see each other for approximately two days a week. I don't like to write about romantic love, but this man is special. He is so smart, so talented, so handsome, so sweet and caring. And he loves like nobody I've ever known. Lucky. That is what I am.

So the writing thing hasn't gotten better. I know what I need to do, have to do. And I will do it. Here's the thing. Sometimes everything feels trapped inside. I can compose in my mind--I know what I want to write about--but the idea of sitting down and writing it paralyzes me sometimes. But I think it's tied to the environment. I have felt trapped in this apartment. So this morning I move outside to the patio (which has been underused these two years), and I'm already more open. There's the sky. Ok, I can write, think. There's a tree. I love trees. I can write. There's the breeze. A real breeze not from the a/c. There's the sun making me squint. Ok, I'm alive. I can write. So here's what's going to happen starting on Wednesday when I move. (Yes, the move is finally here!) The small bedroom will be my office. My desk will be in front of the window, looking out on the patio. Looking out is key. Or I can sit in the kitchen at the breakfast bar (a place to eat again!) and look out on the patio through the sliding glass doors. And if I end up having space for a real table and chairs, I can sit there and do the same. I can look out. Or I can go out onto the patio like I'm doing now and write. And Snickers can stare at me enviously from the window like she's doing now. Open up the space, change the space, feel the breeze, and write. I have written about this before in my first real essay--"Within the Frame." I just didn't take the step outside the window.

The last month with the new furniture has actually helped me not hate this apartment as much, though. Just being surrounded by what is me, and the furniture really is a reflection of me, has made it more of a home. But it didn't change the darkness or the smallness. Wednesday marks the start of something different. My brother Tom is coming up from Hutchinson on Tuesday to help me. We're going to get my cousin Mandy and have a slumber party on that last night in C3. Then I get the keys at 10am on Wednesday, and then we have a Uhaul for the big things in the afternoon. This move will be different in many ways from the others: 1) No parents--just brother. 2) Mandy! 3) Jedsen! (because no parents) 4) Uhaul. 5) a 7 day overlap of apartments for extended moving and cleaning time. 6) I'm moving only 4 blocks away.

Cottonwood floats all around me, settling on my sweaty skin, white fluff ready for seeding. It rises up more than down, horizontal more than succumbing to the slight pull of gravity. It has nowhere to go but with the wind's will. I used to be allergic--back in Hutchinson--but my allergies have mostly gone away in Northeast Kansas. I don't understand the change, but I'm grateful for it. A different altitude? level of allergens? mindset?