I asked god for suffering

on transitionary Decembers

December is a terrible time to move, not to complain, but I am complaining. Not to say that I am not excited. Which was, I’ll have you know, a recent thing, and is still becoming the feeling that it will be. I move every winter. Last year, I spent the month toggled between Memphis and D.C.; the year before I came home from Costa Rica, found someone to take over my lease, and wandered until I decided to come back to Oregon; the year before that I moved into Rachel’s apartment in Detroit for one night before becoming insanely and oddly allergic to her cats, having fainting spells, and then deciding (after receiving blood work that showed me to be perfectly fine as far as a blood test can tell) to drive across the country by myself. And next year, inevitably, I will move again. I don’t know, it’s just a curse. Maybe some of you remember a few newsletters ago I confessed my child fantasy, the one where I prayed to god, asking him to make something wrong with me. I think I was just asking god to make me human. Human I am, human we all are. I move around a lot. Perhaps it’s a curse, perhaps it’s a desire for the ability to search for something good. 

This move feels different. Completely uncertain, still, but a move to somewhere that aligns with what I want to be doing, rather than where I want to be. I am moving to an island on accident, you could say. I feel different, too. Maybe it’s the fact that I am finally doing something big for myself—working on a writing sample to send off. Or all the lives A. and I dream of having. Maybe it’s time passing, a year and a half after Anna’s death, how I still feel her presence. I still see her, talk to her, listen to her. How grief feels more manageable each day. Though, I admit, there are still those blind punches, like fog rolling over a good morning. I wish she were here to see it—that’s my biggest grief. And after that grief, comes the undeniable yearning to be right here in this life that she should be in. I am doing my best to honor it. 

I have never lived on an island and I am sure there is much to learn—like how to buy in bulk or if there is even a car mechanic there or where are the best spots to see whales. I know I’ll write a lot about it here, because I am obsessed with place and time and change, and an island is very much all of those things. I am planning to start writing here every Tuesday again, instead of here and there. But don’t say I said so.

As much as I love writing about place and time and change, I plan to write about some other things, too, which will be mostly behind a paywall starting in January. If you want to keep reading about islands and mothers and sheep and children and humanity then please consider becoming a paid subscriber! Otherwise, you’ll hear from me here and there, but perhaps a little less here and there. Let me know if you want to be here but can’t afford it right now. I am happy to comp a subscription, no questions asked. Trades are also encouraged!

Love, Jo