I imagine it’s what it would feel like to fall from a plane.
Disoriented to time and space.
Mind racing with adrenaline, thoughts, blood pounding in your temples.
Only I didn’t choose this jump, this location where I have landed is both familiar and foreign.
I pull myself up, dust off and look around. Everything on the outside looks the same, familiar, but it’s all different, it’s all changed. I see people’s mouth’s moving but I don’t totally understand what they're saying.
Allons maman, c'est le temps de jouer!There is no time to assimilate to this new location .I am almost instantly being pulled to do things, to go places, to be with people. I want time to study, to observe this new environment. Try on the new language, the new rituals.
N'oubliez pas de ramasser est tôt aujourd'hui.
Serez-vous à la réunion de jeudi?
Pouvons-nous compter sur vous à la tête de ce projet?
Êtes-vous d'accord? Ne comprenez-vous?
It doesn’t happen.
The people look at me with sad eyes and shake their head, poor unfortunate girl. She’s broken.
I’m not broken, I’m just lost. A stranger in a newland trying to find my way without a map and without the language.
This is where I live now.
This is life after loss.
This was the piece I wrote in our Live Writing Circle at this weekend's Creative Soul. The prompt was to write a part of our story, where we are, where we're going and then we read it to the group and got feedback and edits. If you would like to participate in a online writing circle we have several upcoming dates.