Go and Return

Take a week between an old job you should’ve left years before and then add a week’s vacation in which you choose to not travel too far from home.  Get a friend to check on your cat, put your dog at a great boarding place in Fairfield, then take your time driving because the journey is the destination.

Thoughts of your prior life come to you at different times:  when you are drying off from a shower, when you are staring out the window as you’re driving, when you reach for the salt shaker at a restaurant you’ve never been to before.  You don’t know what the future holds and you have no images or ideas of what it looks like.  You dream, you hope, you even pray for the sake of prayer.  You wish upon a star that blazes from prior ages and you let go of everything:  the sadness, the histories, the responsibilities.

The minutes turn into hours and days and those thoughts lessen and you feel your shoulders relax, you feel the tension in your neck melt.  You’re more aware of your body and you can feel where you’ve neglected yourself, but you’re surprised at how quickly you’re getting back into shape.  When you look at your partner, you see your happiness reflected in his smile.  Kiss him, wherever you are, and know that the only thing that matters is being WITH not WHERE.

The drive home will feel longer.  You will reach across the seat and hold his hand.  You’ll pick up your dog who will circle and half-howl and half-bark at the joy of seeing you.  Your cat will ignore you until she’s ready to be acknowledged.  You’ve returned to yourself, the same and completely different.