I am writing to you from half-past midnight in Connecticut. It is warm and there is just enough fog to turn all light sources into big shifting stars. It is the first time in about 3 weeks I have been alone. (There was a three day period in there, but I don’t count it as it was devoted entirely to sleep and packing.)
I shall start where most things start: the beginning. In this case that would be my short but sweet trip to Arizona where I did very little but brought back my very excited mother. She denies having empty nest syndrome, but she does call and say she misses me an awful lot for someone who supposedly doesn’t miss me.
My mother has a love of tourism that I seem to have inherited. If they make a brochure about it we want to go see it. And we’re probably willing to devote a whole day to it. So when mom traveled all the way across the country to a state she had never been to in order to see what my life is like, it involved lots of gift shops.
We went to the Submarine Force/Nautilus Museum on the first day. I had been before and found it only mildly interesting, but she seemed to really want to go. We went to the WWII memorial on the way to the sub base just to have a few pictures of it. Here’s one now:
It’s the sail of a diesel engine submarine used in WWII. Surrounding it are small plaques with the names and designations of the 41 American submarines sunk since their incorporation into the Navy. Down the road is a museum based around the first nuclear powered submarine, a fast-attack sub called Nautilus. They have it in permanent dock here in Groton and have converted it into a walk-through museum exhibit. Mom wanted to take the tour but wasn’t too sure she’d love the cramped space. It turned out fine and I think we both came back up from the boat feeling a little closer to Alex.
Shortly after that we come to the REAL touristy stuff. The things we found in local magazines with names like “Mystic Country”. We went to Mystic Seaport Museum, which I thought would be hokey and I would have to hate every second of it, but turned out to be very cool. Fourteen acres of American sailing history from whaling ships to modern yachts and everything a nineteenth century sailing village would need. Including a building with nautical navigation instruments and clockwork time pieces I can’t wait to take my husband to. Here’s my mom, looking excited at the front gate:
In the same day we went to the aquarium, also in Mystic. It was slightly less impressive, except for the part where we watched them feed and play with the beluga whales. That was awesome.
Then there was a little down time before I was off to Cedar City to see friends and avoid my alma mater at all costs. It was a huge success. Seirra’s wedding was beautiful. I should know, I had the privilege of photographing it. This is the album I made on Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2068670&id=1024373304&l=d1130869e2
If you are fortunate enough to know Seirra you should ask her to see the collection I gave her with about 200 more photos in it. Once I get on a roll it’s hard to stop… Also: everything was beautiful and I couldn’t help love it all.
Speaking of love, it’s time to get around to what I meant by the last two bits in my title. I found myself struck with pangs of jealousy and sadness at Seirra’s wedding and pretty much all of the fun times surrounding the blessed event. Traveling all the way back to Cedar felt a lot like traveling back in time, only not because everything was so different. People have lost loves, jobs, homes, and then found new ones. Life had moved on without me there. Not that I think I’m the center of the universe (Shh… I totally do) but it felt odd to see the people I love had evolved both with and without me. In that spirit, I’d like to share with you a little something I wrote to my husband tonight after stumbling into our apartment, but not before petting the cat:
“I suppose you really can’t ever go home again. Not that I ever considered Cedar the same kind of home we have here…when you’re here. At first I thought I was sad or even bitter at being there alone. I allowed myself to feel empty for a little while, until I realized that’s not what I was feeling. I missed the way things were but I’m happy for all my friends and the great things they're doing. What I feel now is just a little indentation on my heart where my old life used to be. I think it will need to be re-stamped periodically.
My heart is heavy as I’m writing this to you, but only because it’s full. So, from the bottom of my open, raw, and tired heart: I love you. I love you more every day. I long for companionship, and intimacy, and connection. But I am fulfilled, and I think you know why:
i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart)
All my love,
Alison”
Special thanks to Ericka who housed me, Kymmy who fed me, Marty who made me laugh, and Chani who just “got it”. I heart you.
/crash
No comments:
Post a Comment