Wednesday, June 29, 2011


Yesterday The Fiber Geek called and told me her daughter has experienced trauma. She's in New Jersey on a job, and won't be flying back to Atlanta until really late Thursday. The sound of the concern in her voice was enough. I took three days off and I'm in Atlanta. I type this from the basement bedroom of her condo. Her daughter and Little Raven, age three, are upstairs taking a nap.

It's strange to occupy this space. It's time to revisit the past and heal old wounds. The new few days will be an interesting journey. I think I'll use the time to put some old things away that I've carried for many, many years.

It's strange walking around the house. So much has changed. But that's still my Disney plates on the walls. That's still Cameron's mural in the corner. This was the place I came when my life imploded. When neither son would speak to me. When I lost my home, my grove, my life as I knew it. When the world of technical writing and steady pay checks ended and all I could find for work was nannying for $20 an hour.

I read a book once called The Winnowed Woman. She talked about the same things happening, and her life was separated like the wheat from the chaff.  It's been nine years since my life imploded. When I traded dreams for survival. When I had to accept I would never be a part of the boys' lives the way I wanted to. When I realized that I cannot choose a good man, and before I realized I could choose a good relationship with Cameron. When I learned that spirituality is breath, not a grove, not a priest and not a priestess. And that they, too, can be fooled by illusion. It was a time of bitterness, pain, and loss. I still grieve. Perhaps I always will.

And yet, like the Phoenix, I live.  We have an extraordinarily modest home in desperate need of repair. But we have a home. And we, Cameron and I, share a miraculous relationship of joy, appreciation, depth. I have become a priestess, a therapist, a partner, and a better friend. Not such a bad outcome...

1 comment:

  1. I had wondered if the past was going to seem very near while you were there...its been 8 years. And where we are today is not something you or I could have even envisioned two thousand, nine hundred and some odd days ago. Mind boggling that - when we say eight years, its a long time...but a little less that three thousand days just has a different impact. And there are places and spaces where the veil between the present and the past grows thin...we can almost reach through to our younger selves and say "Hold changes - good things are coming, truly!" Would we believe our future selves, I wonder? And in three hundred and sixty five days ahead, things will be different again. Perhaps its because change is usually small and incremental over the days and moments, but when seen in the context of the word "years", they gain a power and a size in their entirety. Sit with yourself. If there is anything to grieve, grieve it. And put it away. If there is a moment of joy, rejoice in it. And tuck it away. Perhaps its like straightening a trunk that was too hastily packed. Its all jumbled and jammed, with contents spilling over in the speed and haste as you scrambled for your future, just around the corner. And we are approaching the turn of another corner, seasons rolling, wheels turning. Perhaps to move forward, the trunk needs its time of review, and tidying. Time taken to examine, remember, fold, put away, let go. Not banished or locked forever, but cared for, and treasured, and stored, where the memories can be looked at when needed, in context and in learning. I remember painting that mural. I remember circling there with Ty and Jason. I remember sleeping down there so many times...Make this time of remembering a precious, honored time. And share it with me as you can...and come home to me soon - looking forward to the next three hundred and sixty five days with you! And the next...and the next...I love you!