I am ready for open car windows during rides up the coast and fresh salad from my garden. I am ready for sunshine and sun block, grass clippings and composting. I am ready for picnics in the park and longer walks that don't hurt my ears or the tip of my nose. I am ready for the monarchs and the robins, the squirrels and the turkeys. I am ready for afternoons on the pitch and sunset strolls on the beach.
I am ready to cut my hair and move my furniture and reorganize my studio and buy new books that I may never read. I am ready for new shoes, a new bag, a new shade of lipstick and new curtains in my living room. I am ready to purge the kids' old clothes and my old journals and the Tupperware with no lids. I am ready to give away, throw away, and find a way to lessen the chaos in my basement. I am ready.
I am ready for more than a casual reference or a passing glance. I am ready for more than a snippet or a quote or a "that's nice, dear." I want to be engulfed, enflamed, enriched and wholly engaged. I want to be encouraged. I want more.
And so, I am in-between. I am in-between who I want to be and who I have been. But when the snow has melted and the hawks return, and the quince bush blossoms, surely then, I will be more.