So I'm posting it without one, because it's been keeping me stuck. I kept wanting to say something about "alignment" and "orientation" and the western sunlight through the door of the new house like the reverse of Stonehenge at the summer solstice, etc. etc. and how this house faces the same direction as the one I grew up in, and I can see Aldebaran from the back porch just like I used to in some far away place and time. Which is all very nice and true, but there's sense lately that it doesn't matter so much anymore.
Instead, there is a sort of inner silence. The habit of looking back is still there, but in a vague sense, like a muscle memory that finds itself (to its own surprise) somewhat unnecessary now.
It stands to reason, I suppose. Why would you fight so hard for a new place in life, only to fill it with the old one?
Instead, there is so much to process, so much that didn't even exist 2 years ago, so much to make sense of, as to how it all fits together to make up what is now. Most of the time I don't even know what to say, what to write, how to look at it without wincing, how to appreciate this small sense of peace as the dust begins to settle in the past.
But I guess I will figure it out.
