When I started this every-weekend writing in January 2020, it was for a couple of reasons: as a view into how the transition from East to West coast was going, how adventures with my dad were unfolding, how I was changing inside it all. Also, it became a way for me to get my writerly self expressed when the rest of the week didn’t hold any of that. I didn’t have any real arc in mind except to probably record what was happening in the moment. Except that I also enjoyed going back in time to music mayhem moments, then, especially during the latter part of 2020, I got my righteous self agitating through words, yet ultimately the words swirled back around days with my dad: all the ups, downs, sideways, tears, laughter, creativity. Sometimes it would take me a whole day to write one post. Lately, though, my scribe muscle has been quicker to respond and I feel leaner in just going with what comes (altho for sure I give it a read to avoid any completely confused meanderings and mistakes). Then I post it up and feel better for the doing.

What I think of as a newsletter has carried on, will still carry on as D&I and our furry sidekicks plan for our return to the East Coast in May, that this period of time in SoCal has felt quick-like-bunny, yet full-like-…, er, a field of bunnies? is beyond true. Rich and satisfying with the intention of what I wanted it to be. Notwithstanding a global pandemic, the ability to know my dad in all his amazingness and be here as he exited, was always the plan. And this chapter is such a great one. I think of my life as containing chapters—some more blurred than others but with a running cast of characters from the way back to the newly introduced. Actually, there really aren’t so many newly introduced save for the amazing people I met through my dad who touched my heart (&still do even tho I don’t see them on the regular). Yet those longtime friends, cemented during early years of college and journalism days, those who moved out here from NYC or who’ve always called Cali home even with some roaming in between, those are the people I’ll now be adjusting time zones for calls and visits with, while I’ll be face-to-face with my East Coast people again.

Knowing how fast time flies (do I need another bunny metaphor here?), I’m for sure sensing that there are friends I feel I could have spent more time with (yes, keeping in mind that pandemic moment interruption) but I also know that with close friends that’s always the case. There’s never some kind of ceiling that’s hit where suddenly it’s like “Great, that was a perfect amount of time. Bye.” Yet also there’s a sense of flurry that has me checking my calendar for spaces to get together even as I walk out of certain locales (I’m looking at you, doc offices) aware it’s the last time I’ll cross that threshold. There’s culling going on of physical stuff, letting go of old, anticipation for new and that’s churning my insides as well.

I started off writing today with nothing but a vague idea around how to put into words what it feels like to be aware of both endings and beginnings around tangible and emotional space. Predictably it feels both adrenalized in that my heart shifts from poignant to excited depending on where my eyes fall or my thoughts settle. I’ll try and track that in this space upcoming or perhaps I’ll merely find new metaphors for bunnies and the like.