I feel like I don't know anything. Anything. Every time I think I've made up my mind about something, anything, I lose any certainty I thought I had about it.
I'm back, as of last night, from my vacation in the South. I loved Miami Beach, and if I had a lotta lotta money, I could see living there. I think. Savannah was beautiful, as it was the last time I was there, but I found traveling on my own to be very stressful. I don't like to go to restaurants on my own, for example, and had no better luck convincing myself to do so this time around. Although, being a vegetarian, I wouldn't have been sampling the Low Country cuisine that's one of the tourist highlights of Savannah. But I did takeout and such. A day trip to Hilton Head Island, because I was curious to see what Hilton Head looked like, showed me that it's lovely (even on a blustery gray day), but not my place (I neither have lots of money nor play golf). I enjoyed my time in Atlanta, and I wept my way through the exhibit on MLK Jr's life and times at the visitors center and visited the historic Ebenezer Baptist Church and the Jimmy Carter Library, and partook of an amazing burrito at Bell Street Burritos (as of this writing the website doesn't show the new location, which is where I was), which I heartily recommend to anyone in the area (the owner is a Sacred Harp friend who also did this, which is how I was aware of the restaurant). Thanks, Jenna and Kerry, for the hospitality in Atlanta! On to Huntsville after that, and thank you Karen and David for your hospitality, too! Singing at Liberty Baptist Church in Henagar, AL on Sunday, and wow, I need to sing more often.
Lesson 1: Don't drive from northwest of Chicago to Miami Beach in two days. OUCH.
Lesson 2: I'm not sure where I belong.
I'm glad I'm going to New York for a week at the end of February. It'll be the first time I've been to the city I consider home since Jerry and I were there at the end of 2009, a few days before he was diagnosed with cancer. I want my gut to tell me if I belong there. Because every time, every time I think I know where I belong, I find reasons not to be sure after all.
Coming back to this house after two long weeks of traveling felt like coming home, in a way. It just felt so good to open the door and walk into my house. Which doesn't mean at all that I think I belong in Illinois: if I don't know where I belong, I know where I don't belong, and this place is in that category. But this is the place I've lived longer than any other one place in my entire life, and as a friend pointed out, it's where I lived with Jerry, and it's familiar, if nothing else, and it's mine. So leaving is going to be hard, whenever I do it.
Everything is in a whirl. I hope I get some clarity on things soon. I hope.
Thank you for your post. It is good to see your posts again.
ReplyDeleteSounds so familiar: wanting clarity.
Sounds so familiar: questioning where to live.
Sounds so familiar: walking into my house and feeling good.
Sounds so fmiliar: wanting more in this so different life.
Sounds so familiar: knowing this isn't the place.
Sounds so familiar: wanting to sing.
But where?
NY? CA? WA? VA? MA? NH? The list goes on....
At times it's occurred to me to wonder whether now, without a spouse, clarity will exist solely in moments and/or whether clarity can exist for the (my) long haul.
I've found (almost two years later) that thinking about any long haul can be exhausting.
Not easy these last few years.
Sometimes I'm amazed I have survived.
But I (and you also) have. Now living in the present is a gift. Moments can bring me joy. Life is uncertain.
Sort of eat dessert first....
Rest and an oasis. Smell the flowers. Find images in the clouds. Watch the birds at the feeder.
Laugh. Cry. Smile. Sing.
Just let it out.
And enjoy dessert.
Virtual hugs come your way.