A Foot in the Door – by Alessia Devecchi
I can’t breathe … again.
Maybe it’s the altitude.
Nice try, brain. I have been living at this new, high altitude for over a year now — plenty of time to acclimate.
Sure, there was that trip down below 700 feet. The one that reminded me how much I do not miss stifling humidity. A different kind of breathlessness. The kind where you feel like you are submerged. Where your lungs gurgle and pull at your shirttails, trying to remind you they were designed for air, not water. Combined with the purpose of the journey, witnessing My Moon graduate and move to a new, even more challenging, phase of life – enough to leave me gasping, for sure. But, that was months ago and lasted only a few days.
Perhaps I am gasping for purpose.
I am project-driven. The in-between does not suit me.
Why else would I have thought it a brilliant idea to schedule My Moon and My Sun for same-morning, back-to-back wisdom teeth surgery? Which, for those of you keeping track, equals eight teeth, two loopy adult-sized kids, and ONE me. Oh, and my only backup was a now-terrified-of-his-turn fourteen-year-old. That was a project. A project that has come and gone, leaving some hilarious videos in its wake.
Anyhow, there is no lack of projects ahead. Sure, I’m no longer in the panic/survival mode to which I grew accustomed during our termite battle and bouncing to and fro with kids in the hospital, lungs diving left and right. But, I do not miss that degree of activity by any stretch of the imagination. Good riddance.
Maybe I need a vacation.
It makes sense. School is back in session. The net is filled with pictures from near and far, memories of children frolicking on the beach and hiking up hillsides peppered with wildflowers. We spent the time getting to know our new home, getting our house in order. Trying to transform it from a house to a home. Still, that’s not quite it.
OR … PERHAPS … it’s a result of the recent announcement I made: the one hinted to by the eerie drawing My Moon crafted for this very post.
My foot is firmly wedged in the doorway of a dream. My recently completed horror novel, SEWER DOGS, was signed by an actual publishing company. Wicked House Press will be publishing my novel in 2024. I will be a published author … at the bookstore … in the library.
And, though imposter syndrome forbids me from concluding any of those sentences with an exclamation point … I am, in fact, screaming them in my head. (Time to work on self-promotion and marketing skills, I suppose)
So, to what do I owe the feeling of breathlessness?
Once one’s foot is in the door, there remains the task of dragging the rest of one’s body through said door and into the room… Here goes!
Comments