This weekend was the right sort of landslide. I burst in onto Friday evening with its pants down and proceeded to break down in a general state of shocked at nothing much in particular.
I watched from the corner as Dave pounced on the door and guffawed at trick-or-treaters, slowly acclimitazing to the concept of people. By the end of that work day I'd been terrified of the idea of people. By the end of trick-or-terror I was... simply scared.
(I've been scared a lot lately. But that's going to tone down. It's too hard on myself and my paramour and while the experience was certainly a reminder of the state of the universe, I've learned that lesson and am more than ready to return to fearless living.)
Every few moments I peered at the pile of funfur that would turn me into the great horned Wild Thing and yearned for that first spark of motivation.
Instead we watched the BBC TV-series of Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere (for an avid fan of the Novel the TV series still ROCKED) and when the Stacy came by we cuddled her into the couch and suddenly this PERSON, of the subset PEOPLE, wasn't terrifying in the least. She's too wonderful. We sent her off to the partay with hugs for the universe and I sat back even less terrified than before.
Little steps.
Saturday we lazed and napped (an accomplishment in itself!), and met Dave's uncle and aunt and a circus of cousins.
There was a lot of magic there, after the initial round of awkward "it's been a while"s when he gnashed his terrible teeth and chased them around the back yard.
We returned home too late and too tired to call the non-raving kids for more movies and cuddling.
Sunday I was up with the dawn and thrilled by it again. I emailed a hundred faces (from the invite list) to scrounge up addresses, re-organized my contact lists, and generally replied to a hundred emails dated back to July.
I am a terrible friend that way, but it felt so good to be reaching out -- even if there was a motive behind it.
And when they replied? The intimidatingly minuscule scroll bar wasn't so intimidating anymore, and I wrote back. Sometimes twice. And I heard their voices again, despite the ever-growing distance. Even if this is my last postal code for a while sometimes the movement stays with you, rocking hard enough that your fingers never quite reach.
Sea legs. My spirit has sea legs. I think I am beginning to actually want to teach it different.
And then in the midst of dish-washing (after a round of computer games, of course) the telephone rang and it was an invitation out for dinner and so we hurried our errands (I bought the smallest elliptical machine EVER and managed to swallow my all-yuppies-do-this lump) and spent the evening stuffing ourselves and laughing from the belly and watching ancient plotless but still funny Jackie Chan and rubbing the puppy's belly.
The weekend was so full and yet I'm so rested.
There were so many cuddles and can-I-sit-in-your-lap's (the best possible motivation to do origami) and pauses for kisses and cheery goodnight's.
I am so relaxed, despite the rush of faces. Saturday night I returned home still slightly terrified but this morning they caught me singing in the hallways again.
This morning I am grinning at the cloudy sky, daring it to show colour.
This morning I am at the top of a long climb and still a little frightened but terribly proud of myself.
Now if we just manage to get that damned elliptical machine UP THE STAIRS tomorrow morning will be filled with endorphins as well.