Thank you for being here, Snowy Egret, March 14, 2020

MARCH 14, 2020-MARCH 15, 2020:

I woke into my daughter’s birthday, yesterday, far, far before dawn. Frank woke too. We each crafted special messages for her and sent them off via text. And then, the news. My emotions toppled me. I knew I couldn’t stay away from my family and friends and home through this disaster. We talked. We considered options. Frank left for tennis. I went out into the morning, struggling to move through the upheaval and grief of recognizing the terrible state of the world. I called a dear friend, still unable to contain the grief and concern and confusion. What is right to do? I walked and kept walking. I walked and kept looking so I could find my center. I looked into the water at fish and golden seaweed and my stress began to lift and I began to feel joy, pure joy. I kept walking and the birds the glorious birds let me in, they let me get close, they let me see a little of who they are more deeply than ever before, and my joy escalated, it kept rising. And as my joy rose in this paradise, this beauty, this splendor so did my grief, and I couldn’t tell the difference at all between them. And so I kept walking and skipping and then I had an idea and I played music, favorite sound tracks, Lucius and Sam Baker, and I lost all sense and began dancing, yes, along the shore, I didn’t care, there were so many walkers, in singles and pairs, and the sun grew hot and it glittered this grief/joy until I was ecstatic with gratitude, and I kept walking and dancing, and I dipped into the water, washing away all confusion and then I walked more, and I finally turned around, my legs were growing a little tired and I was hungry, but also being fed by fish and birds, so then I’d gone eight miles, and I was back at the beach in front of our place, and I knew why I’d walked so long and so far, because I was saying goodbye, goodbye and thank you, the only kind of thank you I could give, was my walk and then another immersion. I had gathered so much strength and conviction. We packed in a few hours and then we left in the early evening, heading north. We didn’t stop except for a three hour nap at 3:00 a.m. It began to be light, we entered South Carolina. We kept driving away from the life we’ve lived here these past months toward where we need to be now. We have made this drive before; never like this, and not in many, many years. I remember the first drive we made from the Gulf of Mexico to Sherborn: the man sitting beside me in the dark asked me to marry him, and I was no fool. We made this drive when our first child, or boy, was a baby in my arms, two weeks old. We made this drive to my parents’ house to be welcomed home when they were alive and eager to greet us tired at the end of the trip. Now, they are gone, but here we are. Home. Charlie and Suzi and my daughter greeting us at the door. Oh, world. Who knows what is in store for tomorrow? I cannot speak for grief/love, being stricken by this pairing. How grateful and happy I am to be home. Today. And to know those who love us are glad we arrived.