Tonight it’s my turn to not be able to sleep. The weather has changed; the nights are no longer cold, the second blanket is no longer needed, and though I’m considering opening the window, there is no breeze. Instead I sing. This change in temperature seems the perfect way to mark the beginning of the end, each day bringing a new sense of emptiness and oddity, a life seemingly dissipates, recessing into the folds of the past.
Ten pounds gained and a heart emptied, April 3rd draws nearer and the months that follow pile up with plans. Time that was once so seemingly lifeless now begins to take shape into a schedule, a place to be, hoops appear. And I sing.
Waiting to be born again, I sing to soothe my journey. I sing and sometimes sigh. I’ve said goodbye, and not said goodbye, and strangely enough I’ve also said hello. And I sing. Boxes appear and suitcases open. And I sing.
15 pounds on and the drawers are now barren. A plate breaks and I sing. A soul crosses, another fights, and I’m reminded that this day cannot be relived. And I sing.
I’m bewildered by new lights and I’m finally feeling the fear knowing that I have to change my gaze from the old. And I sing. I draw deep breath and climb the scale, reaching for new heights. I tumble and drop, scoop and soar and I’m reminded that I’m alive. Each song becomes the soundtrack to these days of transition and flow. I’m bewildered and yes, still, I sing. Dustballs and plastic bags are my audience.
17 pounds on and no cigarettes…but plenty of wine. I sit waiting, not moving much, for my shoulders each carry an elephant. But still I push and I roar with two lungs and a torso of muscle and 17 extra pounds. I sing my hymns.h
…and my own voice creates the soundtrack of goodbye.