Until One Day She Doesn’t

I see this woman everywhere.

She remember her dreams and wants to take the leap, but she is afraid. There are responsibilities that she can’t walk away from, and she probably doesn’t know who she is outside of being a mother, wife, employee. Her family may make her feel guilty for choosing her. She recants and puts those dreams on the back burner.

Until one day she doesn’t.

I got on the down elevator.

Pushed 10. Ping. The door opened.

Again.

Again.

I was already on 10.

I needed 2.

December 20, 2026.

I spoke it into existence.

The end.

Practice: Contrast

Her arm blocked the elevator panel.

I reached behind her for the button. Her eyes locked on her phone.

The dog and I got off at the dog park.

The dog’s tail wagged.

Today, “Movement, Still” was published. I wrote it a month ago.

Yesterday, I submitted a new piece. I had forgotten about the other.

Today, reading the published essay, I noticed a connection between the two.

Both are about holding onto something that might not hold.

I’ve always wanted to join a protest.

About ten years ago, I was in DC for a conference. I didn’t go even though my hotel was steps from its rally point. Twenty years of rallies, protests, and marches in Chicago — not those either.

Last year, I moved to DC and I thought, I’m going to the first opportunity that comes up. The closest I got, I honked my horn at protestors and their signs.

Today is another opportunity. I have to go to the Post Office. My excuses were gone.

Or were they?

Practice: Outward or Inward

I’ve always wondered about people who don’t ask questions.

Someone says the capital of New York is New York.

Another time: Did you fix it? Sure. Why was it wrong? I don’t know.

Is this trust or a lack of critical thinking?

~~~

I question everything.

My google search history: can you touch the net in basketball? What song has The Bowery in it? That salary calculation looks wrong. Did you confirm it is right?

Can I turn it off? Do I even want to?

I can say yes to myself. Or can I?

I keep going on these podcasts and telling women to say yes to themselves. But I’m not even practicing what I preach.

The last few days I’ve been free falling. I’m trying to launch The Geography of Connection project but to do that, I need an audience — but I’ve lost a few subscribers this past week. Which I know shouldn’t matter. But it does. To do the project right, I need money. And right now that money is tied to a job I want to leave. But I can’t justify walking away because I’m not even sure what I’m thinking is interesting or even worse, that I’m just wrong. The cycle keeps going. So right now I’m so deep in it, I can’t make a single decision.

Practice: Simultaneity

It is 3:38 a.m.

I am woken by the cat meowing. Her hyperthyroidism makes her restless.

I know the feeling.

I wish I could blame it on a disease.

~~~

It is 3:38 a.m.

I am woken by the cat meowing.

Then she lays next to me, purring.

I know the feeling.

Last night, I had a dream that I boxed up all my heels, dresses, and work clothes and took them for donation.

Today, I mapped a plan for a 90-day Structured Exploratory Residency in West Africa.

Practice: Response

Her voice was measured as she shared her thoughts.

A voice on the phone agreed with the woman beside her.

~~~

She pushed her chair back

and folded her arms across her chest.

It’s 1:08 AM.

I just had an aha moment.

My brain wants to unravel it.

My body wants to sleep.

When my nervous system is on high alert, I write.

When the pressure lifts, I scroll. Watch TV. Read.

I spent my settlement on travel.

I wonder who I would be if I hadn’t.

I find a spot in the airport lounge.

Unknown faces follow me from Zoom.

They share. I don’t.

New city. Same woman.

Budget meetings. Flight confirmations.

In a conference room. On a plane.

Then there’s stillness.

The laptop is closed. The suitcase is still in the closet.

I stare out the window.

Geography is not just where we go. It’s the roles we inhabit. The rooms we sit in. The distance between who we are and who we’re expected to be.

This is the geography I’m mapping.

I took sick leave.

I’m still capable of deciding what I can handle.

I want to belong somewhere that trusts me.

I watched a movie where someone fought for love.

I cried.

He didn’t fight for me.

I told myself it was love.

Somehow I got on bad Hallmark today.

The kind that insists happily ever after always includes love.

As if that’s the only ending worth telling.

Happy Valentine’s Day