Wednesday, June 4, 2014

Epilogue

Pressing the index finger and thumb of my right hand along the cylinder shaped plastic of a black inked pen I pause to stare at the blank page glancing back at me. Like an impatient dance partner the thin pre-traced lines await the initial steps of a soon-to-be word inspired tango.

In this particular moment I know exactly what I want to write but feel a block of uncertainty towards the correct way of expressing it officially on paper. There was a reason for my sitting down in the common area of my families' house and to take a short break from daily obligations and events. As I sit slightly confused yet increasingly frustrated the primary solution to this first world problem is simply to grant the writing utensil a green light and let it accelerate freely within the book's boundaries. 

Both sides of this newly purchased moleskin notebook have been pinned to the coffee table for what feels like a lifetime and still the message I want to document fails to leave it's final mark. For me the first page of a newly bought moleskin is like an epilogue of a story that has yet to be read. One mishap from the opening phrase could prove disastrous for the remaining hundred and something pages.

In the past I had purchased notebooks as a means of recording previous wanderings in other parts of the world and the item reflecting back at me has been commissioned precisely for the same role. I bought this book because a change is approaching. For over a year I have been working, saving, and preparing for an unknown new chapter in life but it wasn't until a handful of weeks ago that a light finally presented itself with a specific direction. The muscles in my hand have the forthcoming words already memorized yet a cloud of mixed emotions keeps raining drops of forgetfulness. 

I soon realize that fear is holding the pen back from completing it's natural task because once the message tattoos itself along the opening canvas of blank page it makes official in my heart the future events about to unfold. Life in California has become increasingly comfortable and as each day passes it's easier to picture myself developing a rooted life in this part of the world for a long time, quite possibly forever. I love and have a strong respect for everyone who has entered and played a part of my life since returning home from South America back last Spring. The friendships gained and maintained from a year at home are gifts that I am truly thankful to have received thus generating an powerful internal brake of literary restraint. However the rhythm of my heart is signaling for a time to explore, a call to wandering arms, and a tying of traveling shoelaces towards a sphere of completely unknown. 

I'm terrified. One word releases itself onto the page, followed by one more, then another and soon another. 

"Today is Thursday June 5th and on September 15th 2014 I will be moving to Murcia, Spain to work as an English teacher for a year."

Without breathing I silence the screaming pages by closing the book and hastily place it down along the coffee table. Standing up I sense the desire to flee what at first appears like the scene of a crime. Turning around I take a long look at the moleskin, bring it back into palm of the guilty hand that heaved the imaginary window shattering stone, and placed it softly within the sleeve of my back pocket. 

I have no idea what the next sentence will look like but this reminds me that life is too short to not do what you love. A lot of blank pages are waiting to be filled. 

Thank you for reading this blog, it means more than you will ever know, and be ready for updates because it's official: 

I'm moving to Murcia, Spain :)