A spring trip to an island. A month of writing. Staring at the sea. Mornings full of words. Walks for the sake of wandering. Somewhere between now and years from now and long ago.
This March feels so like last March.
Yet it is so very far away.
I have come from held together with faith and fear and wishes. I walked months and months being sure sometimes of just the next step. In other moments I was certain about years worth of knowing. Both things pulled me through. Walking forward and pure conviction. I was wise and true and right.
This would carry me.
And it did.
Despite all of the future ambiguity, I knew what I knew. And it was something.
I eventually packed boxes and boxes of books and a few other things.
Plants. Special rocks. A wooden boat that was sailing me out.
I brought along the knowledge that had carried me. I spent last March writing about it all. Collecting it in one place. Giving it titles. Exploring its depths and how far it stretched. Unravelling it on the page, I could sift through and pick up the shiny bits.
Hold them up to all kinds of light. Dim. Fading. Bright and true.
I was calmed. Delighted. Constantly sad. Full of grief. Restless as hell.
I made certain that other things didn’t accompany me. Particular things. I turned literally in circles looking down and brushing off to make sure nothing attached like a sticky burr full of wayward seeds ready to find new growing ground.
Nothing was going to cling unannounced to make me stuck going forward. Or make me stall when I needed to flee. If I could have made some things tangible, I would have boxed them in crates. Wrapped them in twine. Stuck on labels: “To stay” “Not wanted” “Discard”
My words from a year ago speak to me in so many different ways. I remember the secrets they were trying not to keep. I am struck by their searching. I smile at their joy. Over and over and over again they celebrated all that I loved about the children I taught for two incredible decades.
So far.
One year is so far away.
Now that I can mark time like this, I can use it to make travel back and forth be a safe journey.
There is there and there is here.
I can wander back and return all in one piece.
Wandering through a month of writing. Brings me so far.
Between now and not so long ago.
I am participating in the Slice of Life challenge to write and publish a post every day in March.
Slice of Life is hosted by Two Writing Teachers. I thank them for the community they provide. Read more slices here.
There's a Book for That 
This is such a beautifully crafted piece of writing it makes me feel embarrassed about my Fridays post today. You’ve worked hard and waited long to have this inspiration and you’ve expressed it with such sensitivity toward yourself. There’s something in this piece of writing for all of us.
Looks like a thinking trip.
I remember reading last year’s slices and feeling your discomfort. I am impressed you can go back and forth so readily. I don’t know if I would be so brave. Looking forward to more wanderings.
Your writing is a prose poem and captures the tumult of your journey over the past year. I admire your courage to make such a move after two decades. Thank you for sharing it with us, Carrie.
“I can wander back and return all in one piece.” This is the power of writing, isn’t it? That it can allow us to do this work of traveling and understanding and healing.
I love how linking to Facebook makes my Slices pop up in the On THis Day feature, Sometimes it is happy memories and other times it is the absence of a post or the haunting words that bring me back to sadness, Last year on this day, my world was scattered in pieces like a giant puzzles dropped intentionally on the basement floor. Your words about wandering back will stay with me. So so true.
“Wandering through a month of writing. Brings me so far.” So true!
I loved this piece! It was so raw and achingly beautiful. I’m so eager for my next step in life. I hunger for the change of it. But, I’m learning to be patient. Patient and present. This is what touches me most about your post. I feel the longing and the reflection, the struggle and the heartache. But I also feel the hope of living into something new and different. I feel like you are celebrating your survival and your accomplishment of getting through this past year. Congratulations!
LOVE the line “between now and not so long ago”. Could be a title of a book or poem? Keep up the hard work!
“I can wander back and return all in one piece.” I am happy for you, Carrie. It’s been a powerful part of your life. I admire that you’ve taken the steps onward into “new”.
Carrie, Your words tell beautifully of a journey. I don’t know what kind of journey this has been, but I sense so many emotions in this piece. I wish you the best as you continue forward.
Such a beautiful post. I, too, have been thinking about how this challenge gives me a snapshot of one month of my life. I blog other times in the year, but sporadically, and always about fun, exciting things. Never the mundane. None of the grief or sadness or yuckiness of life. But slicing daily means we are gonna write about the mucky stuff of life, if that’s where we are. Glad you can look back and reflect on where you were and where you are.
This is SO wonderful! Since this is my first year slicing, I love this reminder of how interesting it will be to look back at all of these captured moments. Thank you.
Your writing is truly mesmerizing. I felt like I was floating in space – between here and there – as I read your words. I could feel the tug of war in your heart gently begin to give way as you dropped one end of the rope. I have been rereading my posts from last year as well — a year does seem so far away and yet, in some ways, not far enough.
Clare