My soul itches. Under my skin, a gnawing. A piece of me wants out.
I find myself in that uncomfortable in between: not yet sure of what’s changed, but aware of a difference.
My routines feel stifling. I have a burning desire (white hot) to dye my hair, to tattoo my skin, to wear deep purple lipstick and take moody photographs of myself in the still, white mountains.
What is this?
I am no longer a teenager. This body has walked the earth for thirty one years. Not old, but not quite a spring chicken. I once held the belief that the thirties were a time to settle in, to relax into the shape of the body, to find peace in the routines of its wanderings.
And yet here I am, testy, petulant, aching to make manifest this burgeoning transformation.
And where to begin?
Perhaps tomorrow, a haircut. Maybe with the inches gone I will be able to greet the mirror renewed. Not a spring chicken, but still a bird in spring, dressed for a season of flowers, ready to make space, to build, to nest for this piece of my heart that is ready (impatient) to be freed.
This amigurumi spring chick is based upon Sarah Horrock’s Scratch the Chicken pattern available on ravelry. The flower crown is handmade with floral wire, silk flowers, and floral tape.