Where I am.
I would share with you a soft and soothing scene. A glimpse of a connection to be. A description of the pastoral view before me. Another time. When I see it, feel it, and find it. Don’t get me wrong. It is truly beautiful here. It’s just not mine. Not here. Not yet.
We have arrived. Here for now. But alas as every traveler knows, arrival is only temporary. The journey is far from over.
For those expecting grief and some longing for the past, turn the page or close the book for you won’t find that here. For one, that’s not my style. I’m not one to cling to yesterday. In fact, I’d rather not cling at all. For two, it just aint there. Only a sense of relief, of strength and growth, of self understanding, and probably a stronger marriage and family because of it. We did it, together. After all these years of planning and trying, we finally made it happen.
Is it what we expected? Funny thing there. We had no expectations. We never looked ahead for what we’d find, only looked behind at what we were tied to. It was all about leaving. And now we’re free. Floating rather precariously perhaps, but free.
Where am I? I do not yet know… I could point it out to you on a map, but I do not yet feel it, know it, have secret places, and intimate connections. Perhaps I never will remain here long enough to create all that. I’m not sure there’s quite enough room for me. My feral side feels somewhat caged.
What I miss are the wilds. Not the ranch. Not those mountain. But the ability for me to be untamed, unbound, and a little bit uncontrolled. So far here I feel trapped between neighbors in plain sight, private property fencing me in, headlights shining in my windows, and an easement road running through my front yard.
We said it would be temporary. We didn’t know just how temporary, but no matter. The ball got rolling. As Bob told me yesterday, we leaped and the net appeared. Problem is there are a bunch of holes in that net, so we’re not settled yet. And as we slip through further, lo and behold, our wings begin to grow.
So last night after unpacking and pushing aside most of the boxes that carried our past to our present, and preparing a meal of steak au poivre with the last of our Highland beef, we settle in amongst the orange shag carpet and 1970’s veneer paneling, poured a glass of wine from a big white box, and enjoyed a candle lit dinner in front of the fake gas fire place.
I end with this quote, borrowed from a source I have not traced but cannot take credit for these words as mine:
“Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass….it’s about dancing in the rain.”