This summer has left me in wonder.

After wrapping¬†up May with my first real heartbreak, I closed up a chapter of my life with yet another move. This time, I didn’t know where I wanted to land, but it didn’t matter so long as I wasn’t where I was at.

In fact, I didn’t want to land. I wanted to float, to fly for a while.

I sold and gave everything away (again). I moved my 8 boxes into my mom’s place (again).

The difference now was that kids were occupied for the majority of the summer with their various activities, my business was running smoothly without my constant watch, and I was more or less free.

It was time for flying lessons.

So I flew to Tinder to figure out what dating was like. (And let me tell you, I’ve learned a thing or two this summer.) Stumbling off a branch with even less grace than usual, I tried again.

Then I flew to LA and sang on rooftops and wandered through streets and lost myself in magic castles. I taught drama on the coast at the drop of a hat to kids I was so, so privileged to meet. I came back to Portland and danced more blues and sang more karaoke and walked more miles in shoes that were mine and weren’t. I looked at loneliness like a friend who you love through the hard times because you know they weren’t always that way.

The coast again. Blues again. Between the arms of one and another and slipping away before anyone could attempt to lay claim to me. I didn’t sleep in my own bed for weeks.

My plan wasn’t to settle back in anywhere until September, but near the end of July, it was beginning to feel like I was being called back… home? Something that felt very like it at least. A few days of opening my eyes up, and the most perfect place came up, with a porch longing for red geraniums and joy in the exact neighborhood.

Of course it did. This is just how life works right now. I’ll take it.

August has shaken me up even as I’ve settled into this new place, this new way of being. I’ve written my heart down, made music with tapping feet, grown new relationships from empty glasses and dust.

I’ve spent more time on things of no consequence than I care to admit. I need to be a better parent. A better friend. A better boss. Next month, I’ll do better. I’m still learning to use these wings. Sometimes, I wonder that they are really mine to keep, not simply to borrow for a season.

In two weeks, I’m flying to Vegas because I can. Next up is San Francisco to film.

The practice feels good. The stretching is necessary. Eventually, maybe taking flight will feel second nature. That’s what they say anyway.