“Come. Come for a few days,” my friend offered.
“I…I don’t know, “ I stammered. “I’m not sure I can leave.”
“See you soon,” and my friend added, “I love you.”
If they don’t blame me; I blame myself. I sat in the sun, closed my eyes and realized I was hidden behind the towering stand of sunflowers in the garden. I wasn’t there long. Muffling the sobs I moved to the large field- my arms outstretched, squinting against the sun to watch the set of moving clouds evolving into the curving muscle arm of Cape Cod. This has always calmed and grounded me. My breath slowed, but then my throat tightened. Not working. Into the house I went.
“Ma, you know you have been a grouch for the last month. You know you have.” my 18 year old hissed.
“That has nothing to do with the fact that your friend is polluting my air waves with bad language in front of your sister. He’s a guest in my house.” I yelled back, walking out the door that slammed behind me. I retreated to the porch. Alone
Maybe I am a grouch. Everything gets turned around and it is always my fault. I thought. Suddenly, I felt that I needed to crawl into bed, alone. No one wants to be with me anyway.
Hours later, Facebook did not prove to be the usual distraction: This planet is inline with that planet so it has been a wonky week. How are you dealing with the wonky week?
Is there any relief? I mouthed softly.
My cell rang and hearing my friend’s voice let loose the tears from the tight spring that had held them back for hours. Her voice beckoned me to come join her for a dose of unconditional love. Wonkiness embraced.
Hanging up, I walked resolutely to the bedroom and stuffed a few essentials into a canvas bag and headed for the door. Leaving without a word. Minutes later I was in the car, barreling down the driveway, both wondering what the hell I was doing and at the same time feeling light and free. Convertible top down, my bangs blew from my face and my vision was clear, but just for a moment.
I could just drive to camp, I thought. That’s not exactly running away. I hope they remember to let the chickens in at night. We're on the last roll of toilet paper in the house. I hope they figure it out. Supper? 'Bet they will have lobster. They won’t miss me at all. The tears flowed. I drove right passed camp and headed north-manuvering the winding roads through thick forests and mountains-the views familiar, yet breathtaking. Blinking hard the tears stopped. I need this. I need this.
My friend was sitting on her porch, waiting for me with hearty hugs. I left everything in the car, but agreed to a cool glass of water. As we sat around her table and talked, the laughter replaced the tears. Dinner came with stories and more laughter.
Crawling into bed, it was barely dark and I was alone. Restless, I moved from my back to either side trying to seek comfort. Was this borrowed bed facing the same way that my home bed faced? I wondered if that was why I couldn’t sleep and then I thought of my husband, my dog Rex and the extra emptiness in my bed at home that my absence provided. Shifting on my left side, I looked out the window and into the expansive star-filled sky. I am never alone, I thought. Gratitude at that moment shifted my heart toward home and all that I had left behind. I knew that I would return in the morning- for that is where I belong.