Before The Sun Rises
You have helped me through these last few weeks more than you know. And my gratitude is inestimable. Thank you for understanding that new chapters are exciting and daunting, bold and frightening, hopeful and rife with doubt. That I swing between these extremes from one minute to the next, like the proverbial cradle in a treetop. A precarious position from which to observe one’s days, let me tell you. Have I snuggled in yet? Hardly. Right now I feel like I’m invisible in my own life. My son and daughter-in-law and granddaughter know me, her family has welcomed me warmly. And that’s all I know.
And that’s all who know me. Well, my neighbor Mike – who has graciously welcomed the Sirs, despite Archie’s early morning sun salutations that arguably could wake the neighborhood. Poor guy, he spent his life with acreage separating him from the rest of the world, so he and Bogey could greet the day with unbridled enthusiasm and only risk the ire of some late-rising birds. He really doesn’t understand why I’m telling him to ‘shhhh’ at 5:00AM. I’d like to know that someone knows I’m here, but not necessarily because my dogs insist on it.
Because of my geographical challenges, Andy keeps encouraging me to purposefully get lost each day and find my way back to home base. Funny guy – his rationalization for my GPS not being updated, I guess. I’m lost already – and I’m sitting at the kitchen table! Oh, and did I tell you how I took out my side view mirror as I backed out of the new garage? Yup – thought I saw a snake (it was an extension cord). And you wonder about my hesitation to just go? I’m intrepid in my imagination – it’s safer.
Ah well…life transitions. I’ve never been good with them as you know, though I’m damn lucky that they happen despite my reluctance. Just when you feel like you’ve got one aspect of your life down, fate yells “Plot twist!”. Children grow before you’re ready to let them go; newlyweds get used to each other and morph into something familiar, but different from that frenetic excitement; our inside age begins to disconnect from our outside appearance; life laps at the shore as we’re standing on the boardwalk wondering what the hell just happened while we were looking for the concession stand. I keep looking at everyone else and wondering why I’m not getting my feet wet.
The truth is this is the perfect time to wade in – because no one knows me, because I am not really visible. I can try anything I want and it will make no difference one way or the other. But for the fact that I tried. And that’s what I’m slowly starting to understand. I spend so much time fretting over what I did or didn’t do, wondering if I’ve pissed someone off, what I could do to make a situation better – it’s kinda exhausting honestly. And I don’t have any power other than to try to be a decent human being. To love wholeheartedly and let go when asked, try and be a little nicer to myself as I haltingly begin to walk to the shore.
And so I circle back to you – and your loving reminder that I’m not untethered, that I belong even if I’m not sure at this point where I am. Your refusal to let me deflect the conversation away from me (and we both know I’m pretty good at that). Maybe it’s just knowing that you remind me I’m ok, that you’re my sister, and when one is loved, precise coordinates aren’t necessary.