Solitude

 

View from Calabera point, Piedra Rahada, Morelos, Mx.

View from Calabera point, Piedra Rahada, Morelos, Mx.

I’ve been in the U.S. for almost two months. During that time I’ve read little and written even less, I’m also behind in my memorization project. It makes sense; I’m visiting, I’m working.

For awhile, I enjoyed searching the internet for content and publishing some posts not related to pigs, or the idiosyncrasies of living in La Tigra. But suddenly nothing interests me, and the posts I prepared for this week sound bland. I don’t have back ups as I always do when I’m at home. I’ve used my stash of poetry videos.

Why the malaise?  I wanted to blame it on laugh tracks and advertising and fake news, cynical expat that I am. Then I read Jamie Lee Wallace’s post on Live to Write, Write to Live, and it made sense. I haven’t been alone for weeks. Alone for me is more than no one else in the house, it’s more like no one within miles. With no time to talk to myself(aloud), bounce ideas off my dog and submerge myself in multiple books, well, I just don’t have much to say.

I think I’ll look at as many interesting things as I can in this last week in the U.S., laugh with my mom and fully immerse myself in foods and wine I don’t usually have access to. I’ll be back when I can manage to memorize another poem, or the mountain air clears my head. Peace to you all. Abby