Twenty three years ago I lived in a mid century modern building in the heart of downtown San Diego. Perched on the second floor, a corner unit complete with 2 Murphy beds, and a large clawfoot bathtub. The best part of the design were the big wooden doors that slid easily into the walls, turning my large open studio into a 2 bedroom hide away. Surrounded by windows, over looking a Palm lined boulevard, it was like living in a tree house. I was mostly happy.
For some time I had been a waitress in tight jeans at a seafood restaurant in Mission Beach. Walking home from work late at night, barefoot in the wet sand is a memory of freedom I will always hold dear. I was lucky to live in a super cool apartment within walking distance of the ocean. Close enough so I could see the waves from a small window in my kitchen, and able to hunt seashells before my coffee barely cooled. It was a wonderful life filled with great angst and magical days. This however is a whole other story for a different epiphany, so back to my tree house. Recently hired somewhat due east, and considerably more inland, I was now a server of fine dining, dressed in black and white and carefully opening wine bottles at the table. All was well. I had a lover, a beautiful home, a good job, my health, beloved family and friends.
What more could I want?
Little did I know this question would soon change my whole journey.
One late evening, home from a regular day of being in my world, I sat at my window and gazed quietly out into the street. "Was this it?" I wondered. I felt I could be content if it was. Perhaps I would marry, live in San Diego forever, near the people I loved, have babies and keep doing what was comfortable. I could remain the same and it would be easy. Maybe not with the exact boyfriend, home or job, but something similar for sure. I knew I could make it work....but at what cost. What part of myself would I have to give up to keep what I had. What was I willing to risk, to possibly lose everything.
As I stood at my window, I was filled with such grief. I understood to save myself, to have something more, I would have to start over. To live my truth no matter how difficult was my only choice. To embrace love without passion, to exist within the straight lines I had drawn around myself, suddenly seemed intolerable. My happiest is when I'm walking beneath the moon, my bare feet kissing the earth. To be fluid and responsive to whatever awakens my soul is the only adventure I want to live.
"A few months later, I packed up everything and moved to New England."
Tonight I stand at my bedroom window. My beloved family 3000 miles away for over 20 years. I have missed much by living this far. My 3 children asleep at their father's house. I am here alone. I gaze over my garden, across my front lawn, and out into the street. Watching for a lover that no longer comes. Waiting for a time that no longer is. This moment at my window reminds me of far ago. Life has come full circle and met me here once more. I am older, softer, more forgiving, a little broken around the edges. I have known real love, passion, sorrow and joy. I stand here in the darkness, framed by my curtains, thankful to hear the songs of my heart and brave enough to follow. I am content for where my steps have led. I pray I continue to know the intensity of my ways. There have been many chapters when it would have been easier to take a simpler road. Perhaps if I had I would be in a loving relationship comforted with a partner by my side, rather than being on my own. Maybe I would now be gazing upon a huge stack of firewood ready to warm my family for the winter, instead of worrying how I am going to manage another season. All these things cross my mind. Nothing will change where I have been, nor do I want it to. I cherish every thread that has entwined around the heart of my existence.The truth is I love the view outside my window. Ever moving and beautiful, just how I want it to be.
In Peace~
Raven
