It appears I may actually have survived a very, very hard year. I’m passing still more one-year anniversaries now, revisiting places I went to last year so soon after my parents passed away: the BlogHer conference, the Adirondacks, the U.S. Open. The pain and confusion I was feeling at that time comes back to me so clearly in revisiting these scenes—and helps me realize I’ve come so much further than I would have guessed. In recent months I’ve been punishing myself for being stuck, not having all the answers, not having created a clear and sure path.
Turns out I was wrong. (And I don’t admit that easily.)
But once again I’m re-living a lesson I wrote about in my book: life does go on, the days do roll one into the other, time does its work of healing and helping and mostly being marvelously indifferent to my pain. The indifference seems like a curse, but it’s a blessing: if time were to stop and pay attention to my agonies, it would slow down and keep me stuck longer than the long, long time it already is.
That underlines—once again—that pure magic I find in the Adirondacks: that landscape that doesn’t know I’m there, won’t know when I’ve come or gone. It will just go on being grand and glorious, having its forest fires and its rainbows, and I get to stop by and witness and see that the fact that the world does go on is one of its greatest gifts.
And yes, I saw a rainbow in the Adirondacks. A double rainbow, actually.
I’m taking it to be a very good sign.
*head bowed, hands clasped to heart*