Moving forward

Having actually survived the "Eternal Empty Nest Syndrome" I look around my tiny little nest and realize that I'm still here and I have never flown.
I fly in my mind. I don't even know what that means.
Oh I know, but my inner parents don't know and they certainly don't approve. They don't even approve of the fact that I draw pictures. Or don't have a job and certainly don't want one.
Or that I'll do anything and not worry about the consequences. What's the worst thing that can happen? I could die? Like that matters to me? I've been through Hell and beyond. I consider myself already dead and thus am not surprised when I wake up and I am still here, wherever that may be.
And the most astonishing ting is that each time I wake up, I am ME and no one else. Just Jean. Delightful and reassuring. To myself, at least. And at best.
Sort of like Arthur Dent in "Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy"
And I do have my towel. I would like to put all this stuff down somewhere light and portable before the Vogons come along and destroy my home once again.
All this baggage or is it luggage? I forget.
Either way it is a part of me and I would just as soon have it floating in a cloud around me, the dance of the seven veils, the fan dance, light and airy, shimmering warm and bright.
I wish I had a clip from the movie, "Nell" starring Jodie Foster, because that is how I see myself and to me that is beautiful.