#newjazzage

For the longest time, I have felt speechless. The flame burnt out and its trail dissipated into the cold winter air. I didn’t feel like writing, I didn’t even feel like talking. There was only silence, and tiredness. So much tiredness.

Full disclosure, I still can’t write. I have tried multiple times recently and the words just won’t come. But I am talking. I have ideas. I am feeling the sparks of creativity. Over the last few months there has been a colossal upheaval. My life has changed. I have bought a house. I have got a new job. My evenings and weekends are now mine to fill as I please.

I’m still so catastrophically tired. But it feels a little earned now. I of course live in the hope that someday i’ll earn a bit more money. It terrifies me that maybe I won’t be able to support my family, that life will be a constant struggle for money. I’m 29 and still on the bottom rung. My anxiety is off the chart, it keeps me awake and it makes me sick. I had a drink with the old gang last week and in our own ways, we face different struggles. I hope I can be there for them the way they are for me. Regardless of ambitions and dreams, there is purpose in being a good friend, a good brother, a good husband and a good son. I am learning to build up the foundations beneath the old ruins. 

The embers are glowing again. The flame is feeding and quietly stirring. I am excited about writing, I am excited about living. I finally understand what it is like to live for the weekend. Work is a learning curve and I hit Friday like a freight train. I spend the weekend eating and sleeping, and staring in wonder at my new house. It is a quiet routine but it feels like a necessary downtime until I am ready to get back on the horse.

I can’t wait to get married this year. I am in love. I feel loved. I feel like a garden being tended to by a gardener. Summer is coming.