Coming Home

When I was a kid, I started dozens of diaries. Always there was the intent of being a good,faithful writer and chronicle my life and times by writing everyday. Sadly, my good intentions always fell off at some point and I would just stop writing. Eventually, I'd find the long forgotten and mostly empty diary in a drawer or on the back of a shelf somewhere and it would taunt me to "start again." Of course I couldn't dream of starting again in that book! It was, of course, "ruined" by my failed attempt at habitual writing. I'd fondle leather bound diaries in book stores for weeks, dreaming about what kind of literary greatness I would gain (long after I was dead and buried) from the words I could write there. Eventually, I'd pick a more modest journal, or even a spiral bound school note book to begin writing because it would be less horrible if my habit of not being a faithful writer "ruined" yet another book. My conscience would just never let me buy a beautiful (and expensive) leather bound notebook. Incidently, John has given me several of those extraordinarily beautiful books, but sadly I have to admit, because of my fear of failure, they remain largely empty.

Well that was then and this is now. Thanks to PCs, the ease of typing verses hand writing and unlimited Internet storage, I'm not beginning writing here today with my traditional "it's been such a long time since I've written" or "Today I begin again" or whatever. Today I am typing here, free from the worry of either buying a new "book" or starting again in an "old" one. Today, I did not agonize over the cost, style, paper or whatever, of a new journal. Today, I'm free from the guilt of having "ruined" yet another perfectly innocent journal, who's only fault was to have had the bad luck to have been purchased by me!

Or, I'm full of all of the above old feelings and just telling youu that I'm not, in order to begin again in a different way.... who knows, who cares!!! Meanwhile,back at the ranch....

Today I'm going to catch you up, my dear anonymous reader, about the past few months. I left off, in this saga of changes, growth, laughter and love, just before the holidays started in earnest. What surprised me most about the season was just how much I missed everything familiar. I missed my family more than I thought possible. I missed "the way we always do it" in everything from decorating, eating and gathering together. St. Lucy's Day, Em woke us up with candles and music. It was so sweet and unexpected. I assume she misses "the way we always do it" just as much as I do, but she has dived into her life down here so effectively it doesn't show so much! She doesn't wear her emotions on her sleeve the way I do. She' an example to me, for sure!

Christmas day was so different. Not bad, just different. It was the three of us, John, Emmy and myself for Christmas morning. Only three names on the tree round this year. We gently and leisurely opened gifts and completely enjoyed the morning. It was so very different from the mayhem that has characterized every other Christmas morning of my life. We had friends over for brunch, talked to everyone back home via the phone, took a walk in the park, and finally went to a movie.

It was an altogether lovely day and I enjoyed every second of it, and yet because of it's very uniqueness, I found myself sort of watching the day unfold, somehow apart from myself an observer rather than a participant. Sounds weird as I write it, but that's the best I can do to describe how I felt. Next year we hope to travel at Christmas to see the kids and family. Don't know if that's the answer to this "apart-ness" I feel but it will be wonderful to bask in the noise and confusion, laughter and love, that marks our times together!

Em and I did travel north to spend a couple weeks with everyone in mid January. It was an incredible vacation. One of the first I actually felt I'd done everything and seen everyone I'd set out to accomplish and see. We stayed at Missy's most of the time. When we weren't at Missy's, we were at Arron and Jac's.

During the visit, a couple of startling (for me anyway) revelations came to me. Once while driving out to Pouslbo, basking in the glory of the Pacific Northwest on one of those startlingly beautiful winter days, rugged snow covered mountains on every side, sunlight dancing off the pristine, blue waters beside me, forests so dense and green you can't penetrate them with your eyes, let alone with your person, and a sky so brilliantly blue it almost hurt my eyes to look at it, I surprised myself by thinking "I can see this anytime I'm passing this way."

I really expected to be pining away for those vistas, but instead I just enjoyed them. Another time, while visiting with friends, I realized life goes on. Once I was so intricately involved in the same things they are still involved with, but now I'm not. I'm an interested observer at best. These insights or revelations really cemented for me, my life is in New Orleans now. And,along with my life in New Orleans, came new involvements with people and ideas in which my dear old friends could only be "interested observers." It was a bittersweet, but certainly necessary, understanding, a line of demarcation maybe.

The absolute best thing that happened while I was in Washington, was meeting my granddaughter and her mother, my cherished friend, for the first time after having an eighteen year relationship through letters. My son relinquished custody of his daughter at birth. She was adopted by a most extraordinary couple and raised in the most loving, nurturing environment I could have ever hoped for her. Her (my granddaughter's) mother became my friend over the years as she faithfully maintained contact with me through letters and pictures. I watched this beautifuul young woman grow up because of her mothers generous nature and loving heart.

On the last Saturday of my visit, the three of us met at a little restaurant on Bainbridge. We spent hours talking laughing and getting to know one another. This first meeting was everything I could have ever hoped for. My only (tiny) sadness about our meeting was not knowing when I'll get to see them again. A wonderful evolution my connection to them is; my son and the birth mother have now sought to establish their own connection with these wonderful women. I see a time, probably somewhere way far off in the future, where we might occasionally gather together. Don't know how or when or even under what circumstance, but all things are possible,

I've started working at a Non-profit, transitional housing, residence for women and children who have been formerly homeless. I teach the youngest children. It's challenging, rewarding, frustrating, insightful, scary and glorious all swirling around together. The child care director and I are the only women white women working in the house (or residents for that matter). Being daily in this all black environment has been a tremendous education for me! Prejudices, stereotypes and preconceived notions are being examined and culled from my mind daily. Some I didn't even know existed!! I tell you honestly, color, age, economic "strata," and religious and deeply entrenched cultural beliefs are mighty barriers between we mere motals.

I'm definatly not the first person to realize and wish, if only there were more opportunities for people to come together and get to know each other, out of mutual need or benefit, tremendous strides could be made in minimizing the differences we hold out in front of ourselves like a barrier or wrap around ourselves like protective cloaks.

I was driving the other day in a particularly affluent suburb of New Orleans. (Mind you, I work in Central City, which is exactly the opposite of affluent!) I happened to pass an elementary school just as school was letting out for the day. All the beautiful, innocent cherubs in their darling school uniforms were being met by beautifully coiffed and dressed mommas and being placed in car seats and harnessed into safety belts, inside massive SUV's, parked at the curb. Suddenly I was struck with the terrible understanding that these beautiful children and their beautiful mommas were nearly oblivious to the poverty and needs of the women and children I work with daily. And the opposite was true as well! The women and children from the residence don't have a clue how it might ever be possible for them to live a life similar to that tiny vignette I was watching. There will most likely be no private schools for their children, no SUVs, or no home in the suburbs. The worst part is, neither group harbored any ill will toward the other. They are all just living their lives as best they know how. I was heart sick and overwhelmed with the realization of how much work there is to do if our culture, our world really, will ever get to a place where we regard our fellow human beings with less suspicion and envy and more compassion and respect.

I do know it starts with one person reaching out to another person. One person laying down their own cultural prejudices and lifting up a attitude of acceptance and respect.

We human being have so much work to do....

in hope
my