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.
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.