So many things new. New job. Old friends newly relocated to my city. New book approved for publication (book 2!). New, cold air. New rain. New pain. A new (old) cherry red suitcase and a new (old) map of a city I’ve never been. A new decade entered into with more and more certainty, more and more confidence. A new (old) hobby picked up again and new (old) places to explore.
The other week Jaimee and I went to the Huntington Library and spent four brutally hot hours in the sun, burning the tops of our feet and hiding under our almost-identical straw hats. I shot photographs for Jaimee’s vintage store and we took turns arguing who was sweating the most under the desert sky. I bought two waters and held one in each hand as we wandered around, lost for quite a while until we found the koi pond.
I’ve been making presents: my nieces’ upcoming first birthdays, my best friend’s thirtieth, my father’s birthday, Mother’s Day. Making them by hand, hours spent quiet and still. I’ve watched a lot of old movies I always said I’d watch, making my way through them one after the other in rapid succession. I’ve been writing something new, something fragile and too big to comprehend.
On Sunday I’ll drive up to San Francisco, almost welcoming the six hours on the road, the quiet, the hypnosis. That, too, will be new: I’ve never done the drive by myself before and my time in cars lately has been limited to twenty minutes there, twenty minutes here.
But it will be fine. I think all the newness is doing me good.