Woman, sixty, and still trying to get it right. Stumbling the path toward the Divine. Discussing things like grandparenting, Waldorf education, child development, nature, human awareness, empty-nesting, breast cancer, and knitting luscious things once in awhile.
There is a little three year old guy who has spent nearly a year battling an aggressive form of brain cancer. I've been praying for him hard. And now I'm asking you to pray for him too....
Awhile back. Pretty far back, I met this guy online. It was 1998. I was 44 and he was. Yikes. 33.
I was the hippie type that I am. He was a Navy pilot.
I was New Age-y from Northern California. He was Southern Baptist from Tennessee.
He wore a Navy Seal ring and I wore a ring on my toe.
I was smitten with his drawl. I loved being called Sugar. And could he make me laugh.
He was taken by my spirituality. He always said I was what the Native Americans called a “True Human Being.” And could I make him laugh.
The physical attraction probably heated the world some.
We dated for about six months and I fell head over heels. He fell some too, but nothing like how I fell. I fell in a way that still leaves me wondering how in the world it happened.
There was something about an exwife. It ended a little bit. He moved away, then it ended a lot. I took a very long time to get over it. In my right mind I knew he was dangerous for my own well-being. He brought me to my knees. Women like me don’t get brought to their knees very often. I didn’t like being there.
But, got over it I did. I crawled back up. Finally.
Years went by and I moved away too. And then facebook was born and brought us together again as old friends. And that’s what we are today, when he called to ask me to go and take a look at a rental house for him. He’s in Tennessee visiting his family, but moving back to California from Colorado to go back to USF for a Master’s degree in something. I didn’t think to ask what, or if I did awhile back, I forget.
It was 80 degrees and sunny after a week of cold rain. I was in a great mood so I said sure, and took a drive over to Santa Rosa to meet the landlord and take a look, while giving her an in person, personal reference. He asked me not to beat him up too bad. I didn’t. But I did have the landlady laughing with my story before I left and I think she really liked the him that I described. We’ll see.
Perfect tenant. Boyfriend, not so perfect. Bygones are bygones.
On my way out of my door I grabbed my camera, because I knew the sun would be sinking in the West and I had the time and space to stop and photograph some.
Here are a few of the shots I got on the 18 mile drive:
It's a beautiful valley, anyone would want to move back.
I drove up Highway 12 from Sonoma to Santa Rosa with my window rolled down, hair blowing, a smile in my heart. A smile because of the beautiful day and the freedom of my hair blowing next to a rolled down window and because I felt peace with another human being. A peace that had to come full circle.
Mrs. Robinson came on the radio and it made me laugh out loud.
Maybe one day, a long time ago, I was Mrs. Robinson.
Lying in bed this morning, listening to Camille get ready to work the opening shift at Whole Foods, I got to thinking about Blogland. While it's a fun challenge to try and get across the essence of my days, of my heart and soul in written word, it's not always easy. And I began to hope I was being successful at it. Because what has filled my posts over the last couple of months has spoken a lot of struggle. And I'm so NOT a Debbie Downer in real life. In person, I am strong and upbeat and trust that everything happens for a reason and that this is the karmic path I've chosen to...work shit out. :)
I share the depth and daily workings of it on here because I want to be a person you can count on to be candid and open about life. Everybody has their difficulties, it's part of this crazy existence. Being human is that common denominator we all share. And seeing others for their humaness can be a redemption in itself.
So I'm just sayin'....
I'm really feeling my life progress. I'm at a place where this inner work is churning with incredible power and force. Entering my Saturn Return. But I'm doing good, I swear. My Irish Grandpa used to say, "Just because there's snow on the roof doesn't mean there's not fire in the furnace." I think he meant it a little differently than I'm meaning it here. But hey, there's snow on the roof, and a fire buring in the whole rest of myself here!
The job prospects are opening up. I actually have choices to make as to the best one for me. I've never in my life experienced any worry whatsoever about employment. It was a strange couple of months that left me filled with empathy. I'm so ready. I want to get back to work, the days I love, full up with children.
So pretty soon, in just about 20 days, the livin's gonna get easy, right? The fish are gonna jump and the cotton grow high? I'm looking forward to it. To warmer days and balmy nights. Today was on and off stormy and sunny, leaving behind a breathtaking sunset.
I was trying to be really good about posting and then I came down with pneumonia last week. Things are better now and I'm on the road to recovery. Up out of bed and facing the world. Transitions are hard work. Moving cross country takes two very long transitions. I have to say the return trip has been the more challenging one.
Not to go deeply into it because, as my regular blogland friends know, I'm working on withholding this year. My word for the year. Suffice it to say it's no coincidence that I have an affinity with clotheslines. Love, love love everything about them. I like to wax romantic and think it has to do with some foreign past life where my chantilly lace bloomers hung out there blowing in a delicate breeze. But truth be told, I betcha recently it has something to do with my yapper. Constantly being compelled to share my story. Air my laundry so-to-speak.
You see, I like stories. I like to listen to them and I like to share them. But withhold I will right now. Because the story I want to share is in the really dirty laundry pile. The one that reeks of stealing and lies and betrayals. Of hurt and manipulation where there was unconditional trust and love. It really doesn't have to do with me so much, as with someone I love very much. I came back to make someone happy and found her really really sad and confused. And flat broke.
So recently my time has been filled with sorting the dirty family laundry and exhausting myself at the washboard. It's good, hard work that's for sure. Builds muscle. Meeting with forensic accountants, spending days on the phone and hours at the bank. Unraveling. Consoling. Shaking my head in disbelief and wondering how it all fell apart. But ya know, I feel like we're on the right path now and I just keep telling her each day, that it was better than the day before. It'll be all right.
Sometimes you just need to roll up your sleeves and put on your big girl panties.