lost in transition

For those of us in this great stage of life that I love to hate to call "transition," the holidays are annoying as all get out. Because really, there is just NOTHING more frustrating than having the "OH HI I haven't seen you in a year what are you doing what's new tell me everything!" conversation over and over again when there is really nothing cool to say at all. 

I don't mean to sound bitter, I really don't. I'm actually getting quite good at the "What's new?" "Nothing!" conversation. I have lots of great one-liners dripping in just the right amount of self-deprecation and humor. It's a science, really. And while, sure, I had to have a tutor for high school physics, I am something of a savant when it comes to THIS kind of science. (The banter kind.)

I used to think about making stuff up, just for kicks. I think maybe once I kind of did but then I got confused by my own story and ended up sort of just hoping people would forget what I'd said. I think it worked. Tomorrow I will embark on another journey through the luscious landscape (ha) of Western Kansas. Thing is, I am a 30/30 extrovert on the Myers-Briggs - and as such, I very rarely require alone time. But about once a year I dabble in introversion, if you will, and I CRAVE a road trip by myself. I need 8 hours to serenade myself with bad country songs and entire musicals. Heeeeavenly. So tomorrow, home for Turkey I go. And oddly, I do not have nervousness about said trip or said transition. And here is (I think) why.

Because I may be in transition, and I may hate it, buuuuuut I also get to see the mountains every day. I have an immaculate collection of fun, brilliant, big-hearted people who I call friends. I bake delicious pumpkin chocolate chip cookies on demand. I think my family is the coolest. I laugh, a LOT. I wear red lipstick when I feel like it. And because I read somewhere that those who look to him are radiant, their faces never covered in shame.

Transition isn't glamorous, that is one thing I know for certain. But in transition, I am learning about freedom. And though it may not make for riveting conversation over cranberry sauce*, if I have to be in transition to get that, then fine. I'm not even mad about it.

And per the advice of a wise girl I know, I will do my freedom dance. 

Radiantly and without shame.

Take THAT, transition.

* I've never liked cranberry sauce anyway.