I seem to have lost my words lately.

I’ve been too busy living and experiencing the shifting sands of uprooting life in Alaska to transplant to Kauai.

Still so very much work to do, I can feel my tired as I write, but the house is breathing emptier and spaces are feeling cleaner and what seemed (still seems in my overwhelmed moments) like an insurmountable task of clearing out is now becoming a bit more seemly and mountable.

We didn’t buy our house 3 years ago and fill it with perfect, rainbow, garden-style furnishings with the intent of getting rid of all a few years later. Life just sort of played out that way. Winter became a bit too harsh. Alaska began to feel stuck. I felt restlessness beat and discord stir somewhere deep within.

But the true turning point happened when I lost my brother. It changed everything, changed me, changed my course. And what had once felt like a faint calling of a dream, let’s move to Kauai someday, became a compulsion of- we have to go now.

I don’t know exactly what waits there. Beach and beauty and change of atmosphere. A quieter life with more peace I think. Reinvention. An unmet self who keeps calling out to me, asking me when I’m going to see her.

It is perhaps one of the biggest leaps I’ve taken in life: giving up almost all the resources that give me a sense of security, stability, and definition to go claim new space.

I wish I could write something heartfelt and insightful today about how that feels, but as I said earlier, I’m too busy living the leap. I don’t seem to have articulate words other than vulnerability, grief, sorrow, joy, anticipation, flooded, flight.

Right now I find myself mid-air.

No longer poised on the precipice as I’ve been for most of this past year. Not quite free-falling, this is a calculated jump, I have my eye on where I want to go. Though I seem to have a long way down before I can land in the direction I’m aiming.

In the meantime, the wind whips in my face. Sometimes it makes me cry. Sometimes it invigorates. Sometimes it sounds like the voice of my brother. It pushes me, races with me, howls and screams and sings.

Rushes against my face, exfoliating my cheeks, peeling away all my old layers, lines, and lives with its force.

Soon there will be nothing left but unformed mass and the tender soft of new skin.