Today I forgot the word for widow.

I visited all the neighboring words: late, former, forgotten, leftover,

left behind.

I gripped my hands to each other, and opened them, over and over. As if the word could be found there. As if a synonym for widow is the moment when two held hands unclutch from each other.

Today I stood outside my apartment and tried to remember how to get inside. I shook the two keys in my hand, but the door did not open. I put them in, one at a time. Both fit, and both turned the knob, and neither opened the door. Sometimes, that’s how it feels, trying to get into my brain.

The reality of life after brain damage, even just… mini brain damage.. is that sometimes, even the good keys don’t work.

For the last three days, I have been in full day meetings. I’ve reviewed dozens of long documents, and considered hundreds of different numbers, and strategized a thousand possible futures. I understand why my brain is locking me out.

I close my windows on stormy days, too.

Today my brain said: if I’m gonna act like a stray hurricane, I’m gonna get treated like one. Not everything needs to be touched by the storm. Some things are hard to dry, hard to fix. Some things need extra care. Dry your feet. Shake yourself off. Come back when I’m ready to act right.

It was a good three days. I had a chance to say things that have sat in my throat like pockets full of rocks. For a long time, I have felt like I was drowning my instincts in my own gut.

For a whole year, my life has ached in the belly of it.

Today, I felt myself bubble to the top. Felt myself ready to act right. I came back to Rarasaur blog, and very distinctly, immediately, missed my friends existing visibly in this space. It has been a long time since I’ve been here, really been here, long enough to feel that.

Before the end of the year, I’ll have a few of them share guests posts. I used to do that every so often, for me. Before the end of the year, I’ll record some posts for the Oddcast. Today I realized I could lose my voice one day, and I want to capture a bit of that, too.

When I think of what I want in this space, the answer has always been the same: everything I love. Absolutely every frightfully wondrous thing I love.

The world is a place of let go, but the keys to this place always work, and everything here stays safe for the keeping. Even, miraculously, me.

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(I know the Oddcast Best Beloveds are different than my Best Beloveds here, but if there’s any specific post you’d like me to record, please let me know.)