Do I have the answers? I wish I did. I’m wondering that far too much these days – I’m wondering it when I wake up in the morning, when I go about my weird Corona days and dazes, and it’s threaded within all of my weird pregnancy and pandemic dreams. This post is a sequel to another Finish the Sentence Friday post from January. This was written when it was all changing; but written in the stars. The virus was mutating and spreading, and spanning the oceans and highways. Meanwhile, inside me, there were changes I couldn’t feel. I wrote that first post with stars in my eyes, and I still have them. I do. It’s different. Everything is different now.
This post is all about the words we chose in January; our words of the year. And now it’s four months in, and how is that word going? Is it working for us? I chose “Drive” which is a funny word these days. At the time, and now, it’s an important word to me. Oddly, before knowing about this prompt, I told a friend just yesterday, “Drive is the most important thing I’ve got these days!” And she said, “Oh, I know you do! Keep on driving!” Yet saying it’s the most important thing I’ve got, these days and all days (and of course second in command to love), doesn’t mean I’m driving. Oh no. Like I’ve said before. Some days I shower just to sit in my towel.
I’m barely able to reach for clothes or dry my hair, when they used to be if not exciting, something I didn’t have to fight against invisible forces to do. I needed that peace in routine.
What I wrote is still true. I get concerned by how anyone does anything with what they’re given, what they’ve got, what they’re fighting against and for, and how long they’ve fought, because, as I said, I get concerned by how I do so. It depends on my drive; my drives. These waves and patterns pressing down on my skin – not line by line – but etched and sketched and branded and burning. Burning within me, and without me, and yet I love to trace each color and line.
Drive is what keeps you searching – the lighthouse in your series of storms. Drive is what keeps you pacing yourself – falling into breaths and rhythms so steady and unique to you – that it’s ok when you stop having to move them along. They are you, and you are them, and the world goes by in a beautiful, colorful blur. It’s not too fast; not too slow. You’re not too fast; and not too slow.
When you fall?
Who’s gonna hang it up
When you call?
Who’s gonna pay attention
To your dreams?
Who’s gonna plug their ears
When you scream?”
Some days, these days, I sit and stare at my monitor for hours, waiting for any kind of drive at all. I’m paralyzed and unable to write freely or concentrate or manage my tasks the way I always have. I used to have safe spaces and pockets. And I used to have long hours and days to myself with photo shoots and trips, and confidence. I used to be someone else. I used to be someone.
This country used to be something else. This world was something else. It’s not what it used to be and I’m not what I used to be – and maybe that’s ok. Maybe we’re all just heading into what we can be. That’s what drive is. We’re all always changing, always challenged, but maybe with more safe spaces and pockets, and less dark clouds of pollution and mental confusion and fog.
Drive is what’s clearly still steering this ship, to propel me to hear the laughter of Scarlet before bedtime, to see the light in Des’ eyes, and to feel the maybe early kicks from their baby brother.
What he could be; will be. What I could be; will be. Reflected back in their eyes, they see something. Maybe they see what I used to be and what I could be, instead of a graying, disappearing, fogging, confused, suspended version of what once was and what may never be.
Thinking nothing’s wrong
Who’s gonna drive you home tonight?”
I’m linking up with Finish The Sentence Friday (FTSF) for another fun prompt. This week’s topic is “Four months ago, I chose a word of the year. Here’s how it’s going.” Link up your post HERE.