The white butterflies are back. So is the wind. I'm half expecting Mary Poppins to float down onto our terrace with her umbrella, the environmental shift is so auspicious. While friends up north are experiencing their first frost and car window scraping, I catch myself smiling at the latest subtleties of our tropical habitat. The number of bold ruby blossoms marking the flamboyant trees has dwindled, making me stop in my tracks when I notice their joyful flowering along the side of the road. Our roof's shadow onto the turquoise pool below marks new territory, creating the shade I longed for all summer. And the sunrise over Peterborg has traveled further east, springing up midway above the peninsula instead of almost at the tip. I delight in these deeper textures to our every day.
After an abundant and hectic 12 days stateside, where I filled my tank in the company of my family and depleted it with annoying travel details and sleeping in too many different beds, I came home with a sparkly appreciation for the stillness, quiet and solitude. The I get to attitude seeps in after experiencing the crazy chaos of immersing myself in the life of mother, travel agent, and tourist and then coming home to quiet stillness and solitude on our point. And as I got to engage in a long list of activities from talking to Elsa's doctor face to face about her concussion, to attending a Patriots game with an over-the-moon Harry, to feeling a visceral switch in Hugh after Dave took him to Small's Jazz club, coming home was a sanctuary of many opposites.
Upon our return, I find myself in a yo-you existence of mothering from afar and face-to-face as I get the download of Elsa's current troubles on FaceTime (homework and headaches), edit college essays live with Hugh on Google Docs (technology- sheesh!), PayPal Harry's school cafe $5 (while he is in line) for a smoothie because I forgot to give him cash. It sounds crazy, but I am so happy to be a part of these somewhat inane details. Where September was a month of letting go, grieving and questioning, October became a month of connecting dots and hooking up with my people as we rekindled the still lit embers of our previous togetherness. Classes I'd planned on taking were not attended, pages I'd intended to write were tabled, and doing for others (aka, my children) became priority. And now, it's November, and I have two weeks to align, adjust and set course with my intentions before school gets out for Thanksgiving break. So, to get myself started...
I SUBMITTED AN ESSAY TO THE NEW YORK TIMES' MODERN LOVE!!! This has been a goal for the last 4 years! (I remember the days of driving to Bridgeport for my clinical training and listening to Modern Love podcasts like they were going out of style.) I started the piece in December of 2019 and today I released my 1537 words with my own little ceremony of intentions, spirit guides and prayers. I don't recall a sense of accomplishment quite like this. Sure, helping Hugh with his essays definitely scraped my memories of the perfectionistic tendencies that come through when applying to grad school and college, but this was entirely different. This submission was like a birth, each trimester was pivotal- peeling, dealing, and healing. But this letting go was also an initiation and there will be many pages to come. (But, I am not allowed to share the piece in any other form and it will take 3-4 months for a response. Talk about a pregnant pause!)
And here is where the butterflies come back. As I pressed send, I felt the tiny breeze and heard the flapping wings of black butterfly. I kid you not. Today is the anniversary of my father's death. It's not a day that I celebrate, but one that is filled with echoes and memories combined. This day is a day when I wonder what he would say about me, my life, my choices, my path. A day when I wonder if I would recognize him of if he would recognize me were we to cross paths on a busy sidewalk in New York City. A day when time feels like a forever and just a moment. A day that questions a 27 year drought. A day of visceral loneliness that can only be soothed with a belief that spirit reigns.
I have no doubt that he would be proud of what I have just released to the world.
PS- In the sake of timing and intention, I ran with it and pressed publish to keep the moment real and alive. This could be a shitty first draft, but I stand by it anyhow:)
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