Wednesday, July 09, 2014

Journey to the next step.

Four years ago... And now another part of the journey of finding my way to the next step on life's journey.

I haven't written in awhile, mainly because I haven't known what to write... or rather, how to write it.

Write about how I went from a beloved's funeral to a family vacation to a happy wedding to a 3-hour job interview over the course of a week and a half.

Write about how I sat in my hot car in the parking lot of one job and excitedly, nervously, sadly, happily accepted a new job in a different state.

Write about sitting in the NASCAR-themed BBQ restaurant that night with my love, eating and not saying too much, because even though we've talked and talked about the possibility of this move, it was suddenly reality.

Write about how I had to tell my wonderful boss, friends and co-workers that I was going to leave in only a matter of weeks.

Write about those last two weeks at the office and the farewell lunches and dinners and slowly packing and training other people in my work and the final farewell brunch that had me bawling within thirty seconds of my boss starting to speak.

Write about rolling all of my office's framed art from Home Goods ("If you don't look settled they might think you don't want to stay!" a family member advised me three years ago) on a cart down to the parking lot and looking one last time at the empty room and closing the door, too stunned to cry, I guess.

Write about flying to Vermont the next day for a week of warmth and writing, friends and workshops, laughter and vents and inspiration, letting myself rest and renew.

Write about landing in Charlotte on July 4th at night and walking through the quiet concourse with my college sweatshirt on and a ticket agent smiling at me, asking, "Hey, Davidson, where you heading?"

"HOME," I replied without even thinking. And I realized that for one more night, it was true.

Why do we have to choose one home, one place to be? Why does it seem that no matter how many lists of pros and cons that we make, there will always be something big to miss about a place, even if the biggest thing is the place itself?

Write about packing and moving in 24 hours, thanks to Sean and my parents and two beloved friends, slowly clearing out the rooms of my cozy little house, so that it felt less and less like the home it has been.

Write about going to dinner at our favorite restaurant with my two cousins - the same two who went to dinner with me on my first night in the city four years ago.

Write about seeing two of my best friends and my honorary parents walk through the doors of the same restaurant - they introduced me to it, after all - and feeling so grateful, and proud, and humbled by the last four years. These people - each one that I was surrounded by in those moments, parents, fiance, cousins, friends - have seen me change, have contributed to my growth and lived it with me. It felt so wonderfully full-circle on this last night.

Write about sleeping on an air mattress on our last night in the little home that in many ways was our first together - where we learned how each of us cooks, how we do the laundry, how and when we water the plants. Looking out the big picture window and oohing over the dogs that walk past, we want every single one of them.

Write about the small things that take up the most space, the cleaning supplies and the tupperware I forgot to take out of the freezer, the Christmas lights that I leave up year-round, the shampoo and deodorant. Slowly tossing it all into one car trunk or another, emptying the place.

Write about pulling the shade down one last time and locking the door, glancing once more into the cozy kitchen whose windows shine so beautifully with sun in the late afternoon, whose dishwasher hums with comfort late at night.

Write about hugging my most important person goodbye, saying "see you later" with an attempt at a smile, because these are going to be the strangest weeks for us - granted, weeks before forever begins, but long and odd and missing weeks, weeks we haven't had to deal with before.

Write about not really crying yet because I'm so bombarded with thought, with planning, with worry, with nerves, with waiting.

Write about not praying in much detail because the only thing I can think/pray/hope is "Please let this be the right decision. PLEASE LET THIS BE THE RIGHT DECISION."

Write about the good things that I know are on the horizon, but there is so much haze between us and them that right now they're hard to truly envision.

Write about the love that I know surrounds me even when I am feeling twisted and nervous and confused and in-between.

Yes. Even when it's hard, I should write about all of that. And what comes next.


Erin Lane Beam said...

Love this post - especially the encouragement to write about the details even when we can't yet know how they form the bigger picture.

Gilda Morina Syverson said...

And I'm so glad you did write this piece, not only for yourself but for all the rest of us who work through "Ordinary Goodness" every day of our lives. Many Thanks. :-)