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tug

Written on: Thursday October 23rd, 2008

And then there is the tug. The unmistakeable insistent tug. To be on my way. I must assume that at this time the tug is tugging me north.

I have relished deeply this lengthy and leisurely pivot on this dot on the map. This freakin huge sprawling monster of a dot. I have enjoyed this city apartment. I have enjoyed the block and a half I have walked at least twice a day to visit my motorcycle. I have enjoyed the perfectly temperate sunshine and still-warm evenings. I have enjoyed hobnobbing with folks I didn't know before now. I have enjoyed nights of passionate moving musics and open smiles. I have enjoyed Hollywood rooftop parties and their pools and their fools and the easy way I can be comfortable in many places, doing just what pleases me to do. I have enjoyed getting out of the city to Topanga Canyon, where a friend has a gorgeous home and horses. I enjoyed riding bare back in my mini skirt, squeezing with each bit of my legs to the horse, and all of my arms around the waist of Sanny- who generously expected me to be brave. We galloped.

Mostly I have enjoyed these dear friends. Family. Mostly I have enjoyed the easy way we can be in slim spaces together (like this studio apartment). I have enjoyed the foolish threads of thought or banter we follow exhaustively until we have wring all the glee out of whatever passing rift we catch between our fists. I have enjoyed dancing and juggling with Justin- with such silliness and such joy. And the very mostly, I have enjoyed feeling all this love I am feeling. I am blessed to be with family.

And so I have lingered. And so I linger still.

But tomorrow. (and maybe not early tomorrow) I depart. Santa Cruz tomorrow. Bay the next day. And on north. I have hesitated to mail my hot weather jacket home. Maybe I will get to enjoy it yet as I pass through this bit of Southern California.

I have missed my bike. While it has been okay on the city street, it did get knocked over yesterday. Presumably by someone poorly parallel parking. And it was picked up. I noticed because the center stand was half way down. I don't ever put the center stand down. Certainly not on such a slant. No damage that I hadn't done already on the times that I dropped the bike in the driveway, or that one time on the back country road on a slow slanting turn-around. My bar end mirrors are extraordinary. They bend. They bend and do not break. Mirrors. That bend.  Wacky. And totally wonderful. I love not having broken mirrors.

Yesterday when I realized the bike had fallen over, I felt like an irresponsible parent. Made my stomach feel bad. I moved it last night to J and J's street, and it felt good to ride, even just for a minute. There is no space for feeling weak or small or incapable on a bike. Not for a second. Or if I do. And I fake it for that second to get started. Right away I get there. Right away I remember that I can and must be capable. That I can and must be able.

I feel the bit of flutter in my stomach- feeling 1000 more miles to go. Feeling several more cities. Feeling amplified awareness of my fragility. Feeling the trembling vast space of unknown possibility. Feeling that tug.