I already know what it feels like...
The panic at the whiff of a tornado.
The sick sinking as you see it off in the distance, wondering if you'll make it to safety in time.
The desperate feeling as you tear through everything you ever knew, wondering if there will be anything left of your life when the tornado has passed.
The slap of reality when you can't make it to the storm shelter in time...
The bit of relief when the window pane caves beneath the pressure of the storm, smacking you in the back of the head so you can finally relax, even though that isn't what you wanted or intended...
I know what it feels like to not be in Kansas anymore. To be alone on a path that makes no sense and doesn't seem to have any resolution.
I've been alternately dancing and creeping along and picking at that journey my whole life.
Tonight, I'm looking at the long stretch of the yellow brick road and wondering if I have enough steam to keep navigating it.
I am having a tough time differentiating between what is a hazy illusion from a wispy, wizard image at the end of a long hall - not quite real - and what I feel in my gut. It's just not all clear.
I could stay right on this brick and shut the hell up.
But I'm clicking my heels and breathing.
And hoping.
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