That you're ok?
That you can stop tasting the blood in your mouth -that you can stop feeling the weight of someone gripping your arms?
Is it when the bruises fade? Or when you can laugh again?
I want so badly to stop talking about ME. To not have questions or "should have done's" hurled at me; to stop thinking about seventeen seconds of my life.
And I think I've reached that. I just want to laugh again. I want to pick up the pieces of what is done, and arrange them into a puzzle that adds up into a better picture for me. Move forward, ever forward.
I spent the week in Utah, for work, and for the entire plane ride -- all four hours -- I spent most of it staring at a single spot on the seat back in front of me. "I think you're in shock," my best friend had said to me gently the day before.
When the plane landed, I realized she was right.
When I got there, I threw myself into my work. I needed to, in order to run an important meeting a few days later, so I escaped into that. I swam; I ran; I read. I think I did some healing, staring at those Rocky Mountains in the distant, so different from the view I see in my daily.
I came home on Friday night, and woke up Saturday to a stomach bug. Was it the shock of being back home? Was I really sick? I don't know -- but I barely left my couch all weekend, but luckily, had a good friend with me for most of it.
My best friend and I are meeting in West Virginia this weekend, and camping out. "We will get back to the land!" I proclaimed tonight. She's bringing her kids, and I'm bringing Oreos. "Don't worry," she said - "We'll have plenty of time to talk."
I answered that honestly -I am done talking. I want to stop talking about all of this, and just be. I want to be fully in the moment, to let her be with her kids and let me be with God as I attempt to pray with a sky over me that I can look at and see stars. And we will all sleep in a tent, too close to one another, and we'll kick each other as we turn over, looking for comfort.
We will hike, and we will roast marshmellows.
I will walk in a creek, and I will remember what it feels like to come home.