28 December 2012

She

Alright, so the whole
blogging-every-day-until-the-end-of-the-year
thing hasn't happened, though I do feel I'm slowly
leaking out the things that need to be released.

I'm home from Virginia's open arms and
settling back into routine.
Today was spent cleaning and sorting.
I baked.  I slept.  The Monkey is with his father,
and this is my first night alone post holiday.
After all the busy and loud, it seems far too quiet again.
Still, I acknowledge peace and try to savor it-
Though staying in the moment is a challenge for me.

I fussed over a homemade pizza tonight,
blending dough with herbs, olive oil and hot water until
it was a warm, malleable lump in my hands.
I loaded it with sweet pepper and artichoke,
feta and wine-marinated olives.  Pesto.  Tomato.  Spinach.
It's in the oven, rising, as I write this.

I was so lonely earlier.
I went to the store to buy ingredients for dough.
I thought, as I often do, backwards.

It's been such a blur, this holiday season.
This year.
How strange that it ends so far from where it began,
so full of sweet and so full of bitter
and even some of the seemingly sweet things somehow...
turning sour.

I was leaving the store, bags full and chest hollow,
when I saw this woman.
And she, too, was alone.


I waited for her to turn as I didn't want to draw attention to
myself or the fact that I was taking her picture,
but she held my attention for the better part of five minutes.
Five minutes, because that's how long it took her to make it
to her van, to unload her two bags of groceries,
to put her cane in the back seat, and to get inside.

Her steps were baby steps.
Her moves, although delicate, were deliberate.
She didn't smile.
I noticed that she didn't frown either-
she looked focused.
On each step.
On each baby step.
It took her far longer than it does most to do the simple
things she did in those moments, but she did them just the same.
In her time.
On her own.

And she drove away,
having never asked for help,
having never rested,
having never complained.

I sat in my car and the tears welled up.
Tears that cleared some of the dust, I suppose.
... And I laughed at myself.
I needed her, that elderly stranger in the parking lot.
I needed her today.
Thank you, I thought.
For the perspective.

Patience has never come easily for me.
I guess this is going to take time.
It will take time.  I don't know how long.
I'll shuffle and maybe stagger,
but I'll find my way to where it is I'm going.
I'll get there on my own,
because I need to get there on my own.
I may not smile everyday,
but I'll try not to frown.
I'll try to remain focused.
Deliberate.


I want to be resilient.
To be strong.
I want to be better than I have ever, ever been.
I want to focus on the pride that is there,
surrounding my independence,
rather than feeling only the loneliness that is also there,
because right now my walk is a solo one.

In my heart, I know I'm mending in many ways.
In the deepest parts of me,
laugher bubbles up a bit quicker than it did before.
In my mind, a bit more acceptance and self-awareness.
In my eyes, a bit more insight, as I notice
more and more all the good around me.

And in the kitchen, the smell of supper.
The dough, rising....

So am I.



Baby steps.











10 comments:

  1. baby steps, honey: all the way 'til the end, and they shall be sweet.

    all love, my badass friend.

    xx

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  2. Live in the moment. Baby steps/inch-by-inch ( you should read the children's book, Inch By Inch, by Leo Leoni)
    Jess, you are so aware of your steps, baby or not. Being aware and having perspective is a great and strong thing to have.
    I often watch people, especially around here in my new city, Greenville, NC. Sometimes I picture myself in those peoples shoes. However, you are where you need to be right now. In this moment. Embrace each moment and wonderful things will come your way.

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  3. Thank you for sharing this. I am in a very similar situation and your words bring me strength.

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  4. Let's talk when you can. We're so accustomed to noise, people surrounding us, busy-ness, and so unaccustomed to solitude, feeling our feelings that when there are open spaces, in-between moments to catch our breath, we often feel lonely, instead of looking in the mirror, metaphorically, and seeing the truth, which in your case, dear friend, would allow you to see the beauty of all you have been filled with and all the gifts, talents and love you offer us all on a daily basis; I pray that when you experience solitude you experience your goodness, your God-ness, your Love, and your full range of emotions fearlessly knowing they are part of the colors of your gorgeous rainbow -- the fullness of who you are. I love and miss you, dear heart.

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  5. your honesty never ceases to amaze me. happy new year.

    khmetalwork

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  6. Start forming metal.....
    You won't feel alone

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  7. beautiful you
    you are strong
    you are resilient
    you are walking this through
    one step at a time sister
    big step little step
    it does not matter
    you are waling into a new normal
    it takes time to settle into it, mould it and shape it to fit you
    just like the dough...the journey to the market to get the require ingredients
    the kneading the mixing the putting together of just the right herbs
    and then the waiting for it to cook, to rise, to come to life
    you are finding you way beautifully!

    "I may not smile everyday,
    but I'll try not to frown.
    I'll try to remain focused.
    Deliberate."

    this is perfect
    real life
    true

    indeed
    there is no alone
    lonely ...yes
    but never alone♥

    love and light sweet JJ

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  8. Wishing you a very spectacular and peaceful (not quiet:O) 2013. {{{{hugs}}}}

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  9. You are not alone, Jess! We are all here for you should you choose it :-)

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  10. Seems a lot of us are taking baby steps. Love ya Jess! Eva

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