Notes from the Red Bird House

I'm in well-charted territory. It's far from my first rodeo. I know there are those who incredulously ponder my courage - after all I traveled across eight states (during Snowmageddon) to settle in a place where I knew a sum total of exactly one person. Some of those people question my sanity - Whyyyyyyyyyyy would I do this again?????? Others stand back in awe. I can tell you with every certainty that I am neither crazy (Full disclosure: I am medicated for anxiety) nor awesome. I've said that "This is just what I do," meaning I move and restart and move and restart again. Wash, rinse, repeat. I stay a few years, complain the whole time (usually not incredibly vocally - with the exception of Las Vegas), make plans, finally make the plans concrete, and Boom! I donate a bunch of sh** to Goodwill, load up the rest, and head out to parts (largely) unknown.  Look, I don't relish the stress, the loneliness, the wondering if I'll ever find my "people." W

I took off yet another ring yesterday. This morning my hand - right ring finger because it wasn't 'that' kind of ring (I was hopeful that maybe one day it would be) - feels odd, different. I feel lonely and off, unsettled like something is missing. In truth, she left awhile ago. I just didn't know it. A little piece of information she didn't feel was important, I guess. Strange because once upon a time we communicated so well. Of course that ended awhile ago also. Call me loyal, sentimental, loving, too trusting, dedicated but from the day I said 'I love you' and slipped the ring on my finger, I was in. Wholly, completely, and willing to work through anything. I don't take love and rings and commitment lightly. For me what I say today, I intend to mean for a lifetime. So today - this morning - my empty ring finger is a reminder of commitments broken, love lost, expectations shattered. A very different horizon stretches out before me. It's one I'm