Too much time has passed, and there is too much to say. And yet my life is at a standstill. I’m on a path and don’t know where I’m going. Some days there’s a step ahead, and others I’m standing still, wringing my hands. Always there’s a dense fog in front of me.  

I’d like to stay in the Ohio Valley because of family, oddly enough. It’s been good to reconnect with cousins and aunts and uncles. The weather wasn’t nearly as bad as I’d expected this winter. But I’m not finding jobs where I can afford to be here. Friends have all but talked me out of returning to Oregon, citing the dismal economy. The last two years there have made me tired. Jodi is offering me temporary lodging in Cleveland—where there are more jobs—but I’m not getting responses to resumes.

In Rochester, I’m qualified for available jobs, but I’ve been away a long time. I don’t think the weather there has improved, and I really want my old house back. It could be a painful move for me. So I don’t know. I’m hoping that <poof> one morning I’ll wake up, and the directive and direction will be clear. I’ll know what I’m supposed to do and where I’m supposed to do it.  

The photo is of an old house with Saturday’s full moon rising over it. It’s my grandfather’s old farmhouse, actually, taken from my cousin’s deck next door. The structure is kind of a shell now, held up by memories of the 60-plus years the farm has been in the family. This moon heralded the Spring Equinox and the arrival of Uranus into Aries, meaning a whirlwind of action is brewing. Maybe some of it will blow the fog away.