Run into the Woods

It will soon be October. In October, fires should be lit, pines should be smelled, chill bumps should be felt. The change of season reminds our minds and bodies that change is ever happening. It calls for a response: reflection at the very least.

Here I lay, trying to type in the prone position; temporarily disabled at mere 30 years of age. Some say the culprit is stress, some say heavy lifting. My body (my back) is telling me “no” with sharp signals and parts that malfunction in movement. It (my body and back) are supposed to carry me and 35 lbs. into the smells and greens of October next week – into the high altitude of emotion, the fires of reflection and the visceral ness of change. But it can’t even carry me to the bathroom.

Who am I? I feel this week stripped me and sent me wandering. My father was sent to jail and then released into my (partial) federal custody. I missed so much work it was embarrassing. I conferred with siblings and lawyers, signed more paperwork, drove far and wide, didn’t see my home for 3 straight days, spoke with my mom and prosecutors – and generally found myself in alternate realities right and left. I used to work, clean, cook, ride bikes, pet my dog, and smile. Suddenly, I’m texting pre-trial officers and signing leases in walmart parking lots? And now I can hardly walk?

What’s happening? When did the world turn upside down? When did I fall into the hole? I never liked Alice in Wonderland. It didn’t seem all that wonder-filled to me. I don’t want to fall into alternate realities. I want to run away into the chill of woods and the smell of burning fire. I want to run from broken humanity and my own human limits into some change. But the air outside is still and hot at 96 degrees. There is no relief.