I’m going home from a nearly three week long trip. I’ve traveled
from the west coast to the east coast, from the Pacific to the Atlantic, by
plane, car, and ship, and I’ve learned some things about myself and about
traveling. I’ve learned some things about life. And it’s good.
I’ve been so eager to share with you all. You strong women
who battle hard things on a daily basis and maintain your joy and humor through
it all.
You whose child has autism, you who has constant dizziness,
you who lost your mother and is still learning to navigate life without her,
you who is fighting cancer they say may be terminal, you who lives with severe
daily pain, you who fights the urge to starve your body or overeat, you in a stressful
workplace; you who lost a friend, you who
is a single mother while your husband is deployed, you who grieves the loss of
a child, you who is climbing the mountains of your own war.
You the collective brave.
You are strong women, and it’s my humble pleasure to hear
from you, to learn your stories and trade encouragement.
I’m writing this post on a seven hour flight. My daughter is
beside me, her arms embracing two stuffed bunnies and a cat. I sip cranberry
juice and peer out the window at clouds beneath the wings of this mighty metal
bird.
I think of each of you and your stories, and I am grateful.
I’m grateful to have gotten to know you, and grateful for your emails and
support of Live Art.fully, my cyberspace corner. Live Art.fully is like a
little cottage where you’re welcome. You’re invited in for warm muffins and hot
drinks in the winter, and lemonade in the summer. You’re welcome to recharge
here and tell me your story, and I’ll tell you mine too. As Pooh and Piglet
agree, “It’s friendlier with two.”
As I told you in my Attraversiamo post, traveling hasn’t
been a strength of mine. I’m not afraid. I know people who suffer from anxiety
when flying or driving, and that isn’t my problem, it’s just that I feel
off-kilter and unbalanced when away from home and what’s familiar. The last few
times we flew, I had a baby along each time, and my idiosyncrasies and
weaknesses became amplified by jet lag, time zone changes, and sleep
deprivation from a teething baby or a toddler unfamiliar with her new sleeping
quarters.
To tell the truth, I was afraid of my own ability to handle
traveling so far, for so long, staying in a house with so many people and not
having the solitude I’m used to. I was worried about my pain levels and whether
I’d be too ill to manage two cross country flights. I didn’t want to be problem
for those around me. I didn’t want to be miserable. I didn’t want to make a
scene.
It’s with relief and deep gratitude that I share that the
trip went well. AS didn’t stay home; I still had pain every day. I still had to
manage stiffness and fatigue. Some of that was worse, given the beds that
weren’t my own. It was hot where we went, at least compared to what I’m used
to, and muggy. I was thankful for air conditioning and ceiling fans in the
rental house we stayed in with my husband’s family.
We ate out and cooked in, and rode the ferry and swam in the
ocean, and stayed inside out of the mid-day heat some days. We got grape
slushies and ice cream, and visited the marina to look at the water and boats,
and walked the island and looked in shops.
One day, our last full day on the island, my sisters-in-law
and mother-in-law and I went shopping. My knees were bothering me and I was
running low on energy. I found a public hammock and “hung out” between stores.
Only on an island can you do that, a shopping mall just doesn’t have that same
perk!
After shopping we found a restaurant screened in like a porch.
“Four for dinner?” asked the hostess.
“Four for dessert,” we
replied, giggling.
It was a special time, sipping our decaf coffee and
laughing. We ordered all four desserts on the menu and split them each in
quarters to share. It was the day after International Chocolate Day and we
celebrated aptly with mocha swirl cheesecake, chocolate chess pie, and
chocolate pecan fudge cake. It was glorious, the hours of being with women and
only women.
“It’s so much easier [browsing shops] without the kids,” I
commented to my sister-in-law.
“I know,” she replied, "I haven’t had to tell you to behave yourself
even once.”
I got to meet nieces and nephews, and get to know my husband’s
siblings better. I loved that.
I wore a swimsuit and went without makeup and got in the
water and did many things outside my comfort zone. And you know what I
realized? I realized that there is joy in the act of being brave. Not just
relief in getting through it, not just pride in having done it, but JOY on the
other side of the fear. You might get knocked over by a wave and get water up
your nose and scrape your knees on the abrasive Atlantic ocean floor, but when
you come up out of the water, you haven’t drowned. You’ve survived.
If you pass by your chance to be brave, you may miss the unexpected joy that is waiting for you.
Some of this may seem trivial, but another thing I realized is
that fear is fear. My fears and discomforts may be vastly different than yours,
but they are no less scary and uncomfortable. When I rise above my fears, I am being brave, even if the
same thing would not require courage for you. It’s good and right that we
celebrate our victories, big or small.
There were hard times and good times, magical moments and
moments I was desperate to go home and could not. It was a long journey. But I found my joy on
the other side of being brave, and that was perhaps the most unexpected gift of
this trip. It was my gift by the sea.
