It rained last night. 

I live in the desert, and it’s a rare treat here.  I’ll always be an East Coast girl in my heart, but I will say there is a smell in the desert after the rain that is one of the most delicious smells in the world.  If a smell could be life affirming, this would be it.  My biggest complaint about living where I do is the lack of rain and cold weather, something that I deeply love – but I do take comfort in the rare storm we receive.  This is supposed to be our rainy season, but we haven’t gotten much rain – I’m hoping for a repeat of last night’s storm, at least once, before the season ends.

You may have noted that I’m discussing the weather. 

This is because I’m at a loss of what to say today.

I started this series all piss and vinegar; scared to death - but with things to say.  I had just gone through the surgery, gotten the news, and it appeared that if I wanted it, there was a new life out there for me – not just sex, but a chance to start over, wipe the slate clean of the past, and make a conscious choice to be braver.  A chance to take this autumn and deliberately go through steps that would lead me to a metamorphosis of a woman instead of a girl; someone prouder of themselves, less apologetic, less timid, and less scared of having their heart or spirit broken.

I’ve already shared with you so many of the steps I have created while working on this – the makeover, the therapy, this blog… so, especially in the beginning, as these steps were being put into action, it provided me with very clear topics for the blog entries – and I decided that I would only write an entry when I had a specific topic in mind, and enough to say about it to be worthwhile.  I wasn’t going to put in entries for the sake of just adding them.

Not every day, however, is going to have an earth shattering step towards my goals; some days are just days; long, difficult, and full of way too much thinking and self doubt.

I can tell you that on Saturday, I met with Stacey, who will be the professional photographer that will take my picture at least once a month throughout these coming days.  We will be starting the pictures soon.

I can tell you that I have finally hired a professional tutor to learn Italian.  I begin working with him in September, and he will take me through the normal class work for college Italian 101 and 102.  Hopefully I can be at a decent place on my Italian when I arrive in Italy.

I can tell you that I had a very emotional scare yesterday; I began to bleed again.  It’s my second cycle since the surgery, but the first involved no bleeding at all.  Even though I had read all the literature and knew that the first 3 months can involve any level of blood or lack thereof as your body healed, I was still hoping there would be none, and was terrified when I saw it – frightened that the surgery hadn’t worked, even though it was barely enough to be considered spotting.  It’s incredible how quickly and easily you can fear that these new gifts will be taken away from you, when they are so incredibly important.  Hopefully it’s not going to get worse through the months?  I’ll have to wait and see.

…I’ll have to wait and see.

How often I find myself repeating this line these days.  In my head it echoes constantly; in conversations with friends it’s typically the end conclusion to any topic.

How much Italian can I manage to learn before my trip? 

I’ll have to wait and see.

What will be the long term results of my ablation?

I’ll have to wait and see.

Will the pain of going through this process of having my picture taken be worth what I gain from it?

I’ll have to wait and see.

What will Lo’s feelings be?

I’ll have to wait and see.

…and with each and every one of these “wait and see’s” I find myself hating the phrase more and more; and liking myself less and less.  Other people just take each day as it comes – what’s my problem?  Just don’t think about it all, right?  Buck up.

Unlike most people, I’ve always enjoyed turbulence when on an airplane.  While many can’t understand this, to me it’s reassuring – when we’re jostled, it indicates movement; proof that the plane is going somewhere.  When there is no turbulence, it’s just so…still.  It drives me crazy, because I can’t tell that we’re making any progress.

I have 120 days left before I leave for Italy.  120 days before questions are answered – how much weight was I able to take off prior to departing… how much Italian I was able to learn… by then enough months will have gone by to tell where exactly this ablation put me.  I’ll know all that.  And then I’ll arrive in Italy, and I’ll find the rest of my answers, whatever they may be.

120 days.

I don’t have 120 projects. 

This means there will be days, like yesterday, like today, where there is no movement, no turbulence… just my own desperate voice in my head asking “Are we really moving??”

I’m not sure what to do about this voice.  I can’t live with it for 3 months.  Not every night can be Christmas Eve, with the expectation of a great payout the following morning.  I need to either grow up, or toughen up, or… what?

Years ago, my beloved cousin sent me a card.  We had a small misunderstanding, and while we weren't in a fight, I hadn't made a move to call her since; a typical move on my part to avoid any issues.  I opened the card, to find a beautiful picture of a woman sitting by an open window, in a lovely dress.  The quote on the card read,

Love Understands, And Therefore, Waits.

Even now, after all these years, just the thought of the card moves me.  Love understands, and therefore, waits.  It holds a peace, a grace, a dignity.  It expresses the type of woman I've always wanted to be.

Perhaps I need to be the woman in that card. 

Perhaps the woman in me, who sits waiting at that December window, already understands this is not an immediate process. 

Perhaps the woman in me, who sits at that December window, already understands that the girl in me, who is struggling so desperately to get to that woman, won't have updates every day - some days just...pass.

Perhaps I need to be the woman in that card - perhaps I already am, but the child in me can't see that.  Perhaps this waiting is what brings that grace, that dignity, and in the end, peace.

For now, I’ll try to focus on the rain.  Who knows, maybe we will get another storm before the season ends.

I’ll have to wait and see.