Last Page

Today and the ending of this book feel like the start of another season. There is green where I haven't seen green in a while, and red and blue and gold. I feel the turning of the circle this morning, and very much the return of light. It seems just a little awkward to be so grounded in this present out here after putting on such a shitshow back in Durango for the last couple of weeks. I'm a bit apprehensive about encountering Ellen and Emily out here in a few days after the performance I put on for them this week. All I can say is I'm human and I'm trying and I do almost as much work out here as my students do. I think thats always my greatest asset out here--my ability to learn from my experience and move forward.

This has been such a monolythic and memorable five months of my life it almost seems a bit absurd to try and pull it closed in half an arbitrary page. I remember driving in and seeing the tips of the Rockies for the very first time from halfway across Kansas. I remember being homeless and my first Durango snowfall. I remember the aspens changing, carpooling, and the hot desert breath on the back of my neck. I remember holidays celebrated far from home but far more soulfully than many I've experienced in quite a while. I remember hope and disappointment and almost heartbreak. I remember breaking through with Cris, goofing off with Marie, having that first conversation with Sara off Avatar point, watching Amy come around on that beautiful hellish nighthike to the Big Easy under the almost full moon. I will remember sparing with Kate, being struck dumb by the strength of Vanessa's will and laughing with this new crew. I will remember the sunsets in mid-winter, the panic darkness brings, and the joy of the almost unexpected sunrise the next morning. To the next sunrise, sunset, and blank page that awaits.