A friend once told me: “Faye, you don’t do transitions well.” I’ve always been funny that way; it takes me time to get used to change, even though I have pushed myself through more changes in my life — relationships, jobs, locations, careers — than most people probably do. This schism in myself, and why it might exist, became the topic of an essay I’ve been working on for some time and finally “finished” this morning. But the piece — which is 6500 words long and currently titled “Shibboleth” — is likely headed for my collection manuscript rather than an individual journal.
In any case, over the past two weeks I have transitioned from my temporary job at the university in Cambridge back to focusing on my writing and working at home. I’m back to my early morning writing hours, back to submitting manuscripts when appropriate, and back to re-connecting with fellow writers and friends whom I haven’t seen in a while.
But I’m also about to experience another transition — my husband is headed to Northampton on June 1 for the final five weeks of the intensive coursework that is required by his doctoral program. So this week we’re working on interim things — catching up on veterinary visits for our cats, staining the back deck to get it ready for another summer, and preparing for the upcoming separation (although you can hardly call it that, because he will be home on a lot of weekends). I’m thankful that our friend Jason lives in a divided section of our house, so that I will always have a friend around (and one who’s six foot four, which helps).
Once I get through all of these changes, I’ll be back to blogging more regularly again. Until then, onward!