between

sometimes i feel as though i'm between.  not really inbetween because i'm not in the middle. just between- city and small town, woods and buildings, unknown and familiar, challenges and comfort, freedom and responsibility.  i travel back and forth every day to the small town where i once lived and it is there where i work, see friends, share love, take pictures of the fields and feel at home and then to the city where i live, learn about myself, take time to think, read, make art, enjoy the culture and feel at home. it's almost like i live two lives, each filling a place in me, satisfying different needs.  some of those are obvious, on the surface and easily defined yet some are unknown. in time though, i think they'll become clear. i suppose if i can be patient enough i'll realize them even if i'm between a small town girl and a city girl.

list three

green leaves
stone fireplace
window doors
paintings of strangers
purring
lots and
lots and
lots of books
reading
writing
thinking
swimming
well water
peninsula pools
guest beds
basement
woodsy ravine
birds
spiders
snakes
underwater
nature sounds
the outside world does not exist at this moment

woods

i've always known that i love the feeling trees in the woods give though i can't quite describe it.  most people i know have a special love for the beach- i guess living on the east coast inspires one towards the sand and water- and while i grew up going to the beach often, its pull never quite won and so i frequently notice puzzled looks when people find out that i've spent the entire summer without going.  during the time i have spent there, i find myself longing for the lush green of the leaves and the shade of the trees despite being just as happy reading in the sun or working in the garden. i have been staying in the house of some friends just north of the small town to which i frequently refer, that sits in the middle of the woods and by that i mean that no neighbors can be seen and the driveway stretches for a third of a mile. it is very green. and woodsy. and dark at night. and filled with animal sounds. and not like the city at all. i find myself vacillating between loneliness and contentment but have yet to feel the restlessness that comes when i'm away from the woods or at the very least something green. i went to visit my little city place the other day to check on it and will be returning there soon. while i'll be glad to return to my studio in the city and a little less clutter, i think i'll miss the woods. maybe more than i think.

listening

the city has a certain quiet that's not at all like the quiet of the small town that i've been playing tag with for the last couple of years. i suppose one expects quiet in the places far removed from urban spots and so it doesn't seem unsettling or strange or more-than-it-should-be-quiet there. but i'm sitting here now in my little city place and it's not very late, although it is a monday, and it's distractingly quiet. like i want to play some music or pop in a movie but that seems so invasive. i can hear the sound of the fan that constantly runs in my bedroom but nothing else. it's almost deafening. the quiet. i need to make peace with it if i'm going to stay here. expect the unexpected. maybe i'm just tired or losing it a little or missing my small town just a little and so the quiet that is usually ignored is much more vocal to this city girl who's just trying to listen.

surreal

there are really no words to describe the past months- lots of months- lots of moving- lots of emotions- lots of worries- lots of thoughts. so i'm back here writing since i'm back here in the city after leaving it for a year and i suppose with all that's happened that this is the place i'm supposed to be. city girl. fan girl. mom. painter. reader. over thinker. sing loudly in your car wannabe skateboarder. i'm all of it i guess. and it seems as though another new chapter begins. i'm running in to it head on, letting go of everything but positive emotions, less worries and probably still as many thoughts about why the city keeps pulling me back into its arms.