Sitting on my bedroom floor listening to Jóhann Jóhannsson, toes teasing out the texture of my dying avocado tree’s pot, it would be a lie to tell you I’ve been looking forward to writing this post. What was once so vibrant and so strong and so beautiful, its leaves are browning as this life I brought into the world struggles to adapt from water to soil and the cooler temperatures as it presses its leaves against the window in its ache for the decreasing rays of the winter sun. It’s scary watching this thing slip further and further into death every day.
The adaptation period is hard, and sometimes it kills us.
There is an adjustment coming in my own life, and, against my instincts, I have to take some time off. The only right thing to do is to nurture myself. There will be water and sun. There will be soil to sink my roots into, but, for now, there must be time away.
As of this posting, I will be making myself unavailable in the near future to meet anyone save the providers who have made me their family. This is temporary. This is a furlough. The clouds that hang over Michigan all winter will disperse, the snows will melt, the soil will be warm as you dig your toes into it, and I will be here nurturing my leaves back from wilt.
I will be back; promise.
[ed. I have been scheduling knowing this time would be necessary. No current plans are affected.]