teach abroad for a semester
find a hobby
learn to love myself more
see a movie once a week
continue my work with Hospice
be a foster parent (infants only)
find reasons to walk and walk and walk
read more for pleasure rather than classes
entertain more--small gatherings of people i really love
i've moved through several stages. i've reached acceptance. i've come to refer to the very old new house as the "gingerbread house." it reminds me of houses i read about as a child. i never imagined that i'd find an old house beautiful, but this house is beautiful to me. magical. funny, since the move means downsizing. that, too, brings me great satisfaction. i'm drowning in excess, stuff, too much of too muchness. i don't deny the beauty of this now house, but i seek other kinds of beauty--the beauty of smaller spaces and neighbors. the very same sun shines on main street; the same snow falls. i look forward to my move and my "to dos."
i'm composing, also like little kids sometimes do, a "best friends in the north country" list. this is important because i need to remind myself and them of the love we share and the meaning of our relationship. i've been all too concerned about the others--occasional friends, conditional friends, " i'll be your friend if" friends. these have blurred my vision, prevented me from seeing clearly the ones who kept the vigil; the ones who came to me in moments of trauma and deep sadness; the ones who pray and the ones who don't; the ones upon whose shoulders i've wept; those with whom i roll on the floor with raucous laughter and speak my own language; those who have seen me braless and without my partials. i've released the pain of harsh words, criticisms, taking back campuses, false accusations, searches, failed plans and dreams. i concentrate on the abundance of love and blessings; the love lost and found: shannon, marietta, andy and andy, clay, maqueda, reed. "miss bass you taught me 27 years ago, and i love you still." these are glorious gifts. gems. jewels. sun.
there's nothing wrong with the drummer i hear or the dance i dance in response. it's mine, and i
love the sound of the beat. it sounds so different because i'm out of my element, my region, my cultural milieu. in another place and at another time, there are others who dance to my beat.
and so, today i write with gratitude for the love and understanding; for your expressions of joy even in my pain; for welcoming me back when i don't want to be; for congratulating her on making the "best decision." i thank you for sticking with and standing by. i thank you for telling me the truth as you see it. i thank you for not loving me less in spite of myself. you, my best north country friends, are, indeed, some of my best all times all places friends. and i thank you for that.
and so i begin again in a little, yellow gingerbread house on a busy street in a tiny town. like rapunzel (except i have no hair), i'll look out from the turret, smile, and wave hello to the busy world outside my window.
"bless be the tie that binds..."