The Path Before Me

I am having a harder time leaving my house than I had divorcing my husband. And divorcing my husband was hard.

I am having a harder time leaving my house than I had burying my father. And burying my father was very hard.

Someday, I will share stories of my marriage and its end, of my father and his death. Someday, but not today. Today, I feel such deep longing for the past that if I linger there, I’ll surely become a pillar of salt.

And so I look ahead. I turn to face the path before me, and my little house whispers as if from behind, Go. It’s time for you to go.

On the path before me lies this mountain village on the isle of Crete:

 

Uproot whatever the roots are that hold you to a smaller vision, and move into a much larger sphere so that you can see in new ways.
-- Clarissa Pinkola Estes

Brave

I cried in the shower this morning.

Such a safe place to have a good cry, wrapped in a cocoon of tile and steam, where the walls echo my sobs so that I hear myself as though somebody else, someone not me, so that I the listener can say to me the crier, “Shh. There, there, love. It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

*  *  *

“You are so brave!”

That's what friends and acquaintances often say to me about my upcoming sojourn in Greece. “You are so brave!” These voices, all these enthusiastic voices racing in my head, “I admire you, Chrys,” “You are such a strong woman,” “You are so brave,” you are so brave, you are so, you are so, so brave, so brave.

Brave? I’m terrified.

I am not leaving my house in order to set out on an adventure. I am leaving my house because I have to. The divorce decree says so.

Happy Little House, 2004

Brave? Look at me! I'm crying like a child. 

I don’t want to leave my house. Not yet. I’m not ready. I love my little house, I always have. This sweet house has been a rock in my life, a comfort, a constant. I wish I could buy it. I wish I could buy it and fix her little problems and tend to her gardens again. I wish, I wish, I wish.

I wish I could just drop everything and go to Greece and live in a little village for a while and learn something new.

*poof!*

I raise my face to the stream of water, wash away the last of my tears. Brave, terrified, it doesn't matter. There are things I need to do today. I turn off the water, pull open the curtain, reach for my towel, and step out. Out of the tub, out of the crying, into the moment. 

That, my friends, is the bravest step I have ever taken.

Going to Greece for 80 Days

It's official. I bought my airline tickets tonight. Details to follow.