Changing Room

I’ve seen three hummingbirds today.

There aren’t a lot of birds in Los Angeles. That’s not true, there are birds, but not like the birds near my old house. We had bird nests and birds everywhere. Here things are more city, more crows and seagulls.

Today I want to go back. I want to go back to before when I wasn’t hurt or angry, when I didn’t know about so many things lurking in the shadows. I want to go back to my old office where writing was easy, and my life was familiar.

“I don’t know how to get back to who I used to be,” I told Michael yesterday through stupid tears.

“You’re not going to get back to who you used to be. That chapter is over. You need to be who you are now.” That was his response.

No patting on the back, fluffing of feathers, or “You’ll be fine. Give it time.” Yeah, I didn’t marry that guy.

Instead, I’m with Mr. Reality, which can be helpful during times like this.

So, the only way I have is forward. I’m okay with that. I didn’t use to look back, so why am I looking back now?

Because I didn’t know back then. I didn’t know that I should have loved myself and my life more. I thought I would always be there for me, just humming along.

I didn’t realize that in a blink, everything would be different.

That was foolish. Things change all the time.

I wonder how hummingbirds deal with change. I’m not sure birds “deal” with anything. They appear to get up and get on with it.

I know I should be doing that, and I will. Today is just a day. In the blink of an eye, everything could be different. I suppose that works both ways.

My thoughts from the laundry room. Back to Bed.












acceptance choices coping courage crazy life learning life patience thoughts writing

6 Comments Leave a comment

  1. I’ve heard that a writer has to hurt–maybe suffer a bit–before he/she becomes a great writer. You’re here, you’re back and with Michael at your side, you can only move forward and use the past in your stories. That clears out the garbage. You’ve already taken steps forward–writing this piece took courage.
    Wishing you a good life in L.A., Tracy. Stay well and Be safe.. . .

  2. I’m with you, Sister. It took me forever to fully realize that you can’t step into the same river twice.
    Onward. But don’t forget those birdsongs.

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