I was inspired to try and write this from someone else’s page today, putting words to this leaving thing I am doing. I hold onto what is happening for me like I’m holding my breath. I was glad to get the reminder to breathe.I’ve
been talking about leaving this town for some time, ready to move onto the next adventure in this GoGo’s
life. It’s taking some serious prep-work to get on the road, as I need to prepare months in advance. Recently, I’ve been getting this upwelling of loss. I want to savor every moment, every friend, and every experience I still have left here. It reminds me of when my grandmother was dieing, and I decided to remember the color of the sky
. I believed if I could remember the color, I could remember her. One would think I’d tried to remember her face, but for some reason I could see the sky better.
It’s hard to put words to what I am feeling and the thoughts roaming in my head. Most of it hasn’t formed in a palette of color to put here on this page; it’s all a mix of colors blending into grey. Interpretation, I don’t know how to talk about it. I want to try though. Like at work today, I found myself laughing with my co-workers and this sudden realization that they are not going to be in my life much longer hit me. Then I thought about the friends I’ll be saying good bye to. This time I am saying good bye to them as I leave, instead of watching them head out into the world. It was much easier watching friends go and know there would be some who I’d never loose connection to and some who would fall away to the distance time brings, then watching myself go. By this time next year, I’m going to be somewhere else probably feeling isolated while I try to get my bearings. I’ll
also be having a good time stretching myself…
…Yeah, honestly I have no clue what it will look like for me.
I get that seasons change and time takes us where we need to go. I get that loss makes room for growth. I get that this choice to step out of the State and do things I only dreamt someone else could is a good choice forward. I’m not leaving to find myself, but that the self I have found wants to go and grow, while collecting more of this me. I want to send my little Bo his letters from another country and find some new neighborhood to explore. Ride my bike down another river trail daily. The writer wants more material to work from. I want to position myself to know the next town I settle in will be the place I buy a home (hopefully while it is still a buyers market). I want to leave this town and travel the world. I want to feel the wings that hug these shoulders, and yet it doesn’t make it easier.
I find I already miss so many things and people. I guess it’s a reflection of the internal compass gearing to go. I don’t like the feelings though. It brings up the question, will I be remembered when I go? I answer with this, those who will remember are blessed and those who will not are gifted
(Saying from my Gramps
). Seriously, I know it’s a deeper insecurity meant to be self-loved and has no barring on those who I care for. Leaving then gives me an oppor
tunity to heal this old voice at the root. It also brings up other habits of already distancing this self to make sure I don’t get hurt. Damn those defense mechanisms…damn my degree in mental health…damn Freud!
No wait, this is a good thing.
I want to remember every color, every person, every corner and smell so I can carry it all with me, so I can review the memory whenever I need something of home to hold onto. And that is it, I suppose. This place was my home…is my home. Still, I am ready to go…still, I will miss this place…knowing the time left feels like I am treading a new path already. This path greets me with both gratefulness for my time and sadness for how limited it feels.
And this is what I have tonight, between work, holiday shopping, and Survivor…a bluesy AND A VERY CRAMPY gyrl who is trying to make sense of this “going thing” I’m doing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~The photos are various photographers I've collected, click them to see the names.
Labels: grandmother, long winded, moving