Long since silent, I feel it is time to shake off some dust and clear away the remnents of spider webs. My longing to write has reared it's possessive head. Are we ready for this?
Time will tell.
Life tends to deal each of us a hand of cards, but forgets to give us the rules to the game. Only a lucky few find the short cut while most of us simply wander around in the ultraviolet mist stubbing toes and scraping knees. I have my fair share of stubbed (or broken) toes and knees with battle scars the size of oranges. ... and so on I trudge.
I have spent the last two years working and living as a massage therapist in a spa setting. It has been the most demanding, draining, grueling, ... rewarding, fulfilling, amazing journey ever. But my body is breaking. My hands are not going to last two more years, let alone long enough to ever hold my grandchild pain free if I don't stop. Every joint in my back shifts at random, and my feet have declared themselves their own country and sued the rest of me for secession from the Union. It's a hard one, Uncle Albert.
I have made the decision to move back to my hometown. Just the thought of it makes me break out in a clammy sweat. My head tells me to panic, but my heart hears my children wishing me back. I worry about leaving my career. I love it. Undoubtedly. I hope there will be the occasional soul looking for bodywork with a purpose and not just fluff. but my family calls.
For them I will go. They need me worse than I need this. So now I am clicking my ruby slippers and whispering ever so softly....
~There's no place like home... there's no place like home...~