how hard we try (both hands)

the autumn itch.
rather, the itch that occurs whenever and wherever it pleases. the itch with a purpose, a personality, a desire.
the itch that will one day drive us out of this town.
if we stay here for two and a half more years, that is, if i finish my degree here, i will be genuinely surprised. for some reason it seems like a prediction of the future you know will actually never occur. something you believe for convenience, a pretense taken for granted, because it's what would come next. it's the most likely thing to happen, but at the same time it seems unreal. feels like an imaginary game, to pretend we'll be here that long.
the leaves are blowing, blowing past the windows today. the windows are open. the tea is steeping. the future is wide open.

we talk of moving to chattanooga, tennessee. we talk of what will happen if he's not accepted to the nursing program.

"i'm recording our history on the
bedroom wall
and when we leave the landlord will come
and paint over it all"

the itch is now accompanied by it's stronger, older sister - the biological clock of my woman's body. the need to bear children. the urge to raise our children together - lindsay with hers, us with ours. cousins in the same town. the town is near mountains. it's near a coast.

scott and i are both born with the itch. a recurring rash that has promised to return for the rest of our lives. just when you think you've conquered the rash - it hasn't shown up for three seasons! - it comes back. just a few bumps at first, no itch yet. then it seems to multiply overnight, a million times, and you wake up and are covered inside out with bumps that itch like hellfire. the itch has arrived, and taken over. for the next few days we'll look at schools in different states, surf real estate websites for the perfect starter home in a new town. we'll dissect digits that mean nothing, because the itch is strong enough to negate the numbers.

not pregnant - my period came and erased the inkling of (fear? hope?) that i had been holding on to, carefully. why do i pretend to not want it? i want to be pregnant, my body pleads for the experience. my arms beg to hold a new life. scott even wants it, i know. but what about my degree? if i don't finish it, what a disappointment. to myself and my family. not that it couldn't be finished later, but . . .
it's funny how i've said "school just isn't for some people", especially referencing lindsay. a brilliant woman who went to school and tried, but stopped going, and has found something else. many somethings that not only bring in money, but fulfill her life and her passions. i never lumped myself into that category, because i thrive in school. i enjoy writing papers, i easily achieve all a's. but am i being fulfilled? do i really want the degree? at this point i just want out. it's the itch. it's spread to every category of my life.
except my marriage. for some reason i feel more planted, more right, than ever with scott. i love him more than i could have envisioned ever loving a man. he's incredible to me. and something more - he also has the itch, like me.
we're two similar spirits tainted (gifted?) with the same itchy rash to keep us moving.
let's go!