It was quite a surprise that I suddenly wanted to take pictures again. So I picked up the camera for the first time in many months, cradling it to my chest with one hand in-between the clicks, happy to see again.
That is a gift that you gave to me. Yes, you. Your comments and emails of support and understanding are like a talisman that I always have in my pocket, just in case. I thank you with all of my heart. It is freeing to know that I can share and that being ‘alone’ is an illusion.
What wasn’t surprising, not in the least, was that I would love my friend Elizabeth, La Contessa, in person as much as I have through communicating across the lines, over the years via the internet and eventually, due to her insistence, on the phone. She invited me to come out West to change my mind and then some. Maybe to shift perspective and pick up a bit of strength on the way.
I could feel the smile spreading up through my throat, across my lips to raise up my hand in a goofy wave as soon as I saw her at the terminal, waiting, searching the crowds for a redhead, possibly in a caftan. It was a recognition, a “Hello you” of a friendship made solid, something that would only intensify over the days as I fell head over heels for her and her antiques-filled (and I do mean filled) home, her charming Italian Husband, her winsome Corgi named Winston and even, astonishingly, a wise cat named Theodore (just don’t tell Ben and Kipling). That all of this was to be found in California only added to the sweetness.
It was a champagne bubble of a week filled with everything that I like.
Did that pop when I returned back to reality? It did. I realize constantly that I am in the early days yet. But, when courage has been instilled it cannot so easily be stripped.
And so too, on this Memorial Day in the States, I think of the men and women who have crossed truly frightening lines, fueled less by inspiration but something lit like freedom. I thank them as well.
“The question is not what a man can scorn, or disparage, or find fault with, but what he can love, and value, and appreciate.”
— John Ruskin
A thought that I held onto tightly on that day in February when I flew out of Paris?
There is a horizon always above the clouds and it is shining blue.
****
*For those of you stopping by because of Elizabeth’s unending kindness? Thank you so very much for being here. If this post or the links are a little too cryptic, you can find out more of my recent story by clicking here. Bienvenue…
Ah to read these words and so excited for you that you have picked up your camera again…one can heal through creative pursuits.
Elizabeth has a huge heart…how lovely that you were able to spend some time with her, California must have felt like a breath of fresh air…
Take care as you move ahead on your healing journey.
XO
Glad you are finding your voice again through words and photos. xo
Have read back a bit on your blog. This most recent post seems to find you stronger and healthier. I wish you the best as you move forward. Love your photos and glad you found your camera again.
P.S. Reading my comment from yesterday, it occurs to me that someone (or many, many ones) might read it and think "What a snooty boots…"
I should emphasize (as I find myself regularly doing, even these days)that spending seventeen years (yup….count 'em) in college and gradskool was, finally, just a very enjoyable (and not even expensive; I always had complete fellowships)way of avoiding pretty much every single adult-responsibility until I was 35 or so.
I never had to pay rent, cook my own food, get respectably married (completely forgot to attend to that matter….even now), have children, join the military, look at a utility bill….or any of the thousand-&-one duties that characterize the lives of actual adults.
I may be the only person I know of who, rather than worrying that he/she would never finish his/her dissertation, was instead terrified that I might finish it too quickly and find myself surrounded by family and friends who expected me to "do" something with my life.
In any case, I read a lot of poetry during those years…..as you can probably tell.
Advisedly yours as ever,
David Terry
It really does take a village, said a friend of mine who had just told her friends in virtual land of a brush with cancer after their support had been quickly forthcoming and strong. As I have said before many in this 'email/comment' world in which we live know me far better and in many ways are closer than quite a few who are face-to-face friends. Remember your village will always keep you close, Heather.
Glad you are doing what you love and sharing it with the class. courage, mon amie.
YOU were a TREAT for ME…………..along awaited TREAT for ME!The visit went by far TO FAST.
Remember who YOU are and that YOU have FRIENDS all OVER THE WORLD who care about YOU.
You know what YOU HAVE TO DO and in which ORDER To proceed.If YOU need a PEP CHAT I am just a phone call away!!!
This is a B E A U T I F U L post……………….keep WRITING and SNAPPING!!!!!!
XOXO
BIG HUG.
Delighted that you got a week with the wonderful Contessa! And very glad that the camera is calling you again. xoxoxoxoxo
Oh dear Heather ~ I had to go back a post to read about what happened. I am so sorry and pray that all will work out and be well.
Glad you have picked up your camera and that you are writing again. Both are tools of healing.
Love, hugs & prayers ~ FlowerLady
Dear Heather,
You are such a joy to so many. How lovely to be reminded of that by La Contessa and others. Some of the previous commenters have made thoughtful, practical suggestions for ways to continue above the clouds, but I think David's inclusion of the stunning Edna St Vincent Millay poem is especially fitting. Don't stop looking, because there's so much to see. Best love to you.