Today it started to sink in a little bit. Last night on the drive home from seeing my son for the first time since I dropped him off with his mother on July 1st, I saw a break in the clouds. Metaphorically speaking…and literally too I suppose.
The last few days, Winter has begun to flirt with North Park. Four or five inches of heavy, wet snow dropped on us a few days ago and the mountains have been glazed with snow, which is melting off, but I think will serve as a base coat as the nights get longer and winter settles in.
A year ago…it’s hard to imagine what was going on a year ago. Like now, I was preparing for a court case. I put my writing on hold. The book, which was writing itself had to be paused so I could represent myself in court. That thing they say about a person who serves as their own attorney has a fool for a client…believe it.
It was a waste of time, but I did save a little bit of money on attorney’s fees. Anyway, enough about that. We are talking about a break in the clouds.
Yesterday, I got a my first face-to-face visit with my youngest kiddo. We played chess for an hour. He beat me twice. I’m proud of him. It was so nice just to be present with him and interact that I forgot to take pictures. It was good to just be near him, encourage him, help him through moves or teach him better ways to play the game. Zoom calls are no substitute. It’s a long process, but one I hope will end well for him. He has a lot of patience for an eleven year old. He could teach a lot of us what strength really is.
I wish he didn’t need to be so strong.
On the way home, I stopped at the old neighborhood where I had landed shortly after I began the journey of my divorce and new life. The old house has been bought and it looks like it is being flipped again. I spoke with my neighbor and former coworker. We caught up. I had left the neighborhood without saying goodbye back in December. We weren’t all that close, and about half an hour of chatting in the cold evening air was enough to motivate me to head back into the mountains. I stopped at Dutch Bros. for coffee. Chatted with a couple of my friends there. Then raced to Ft. Collins to pick up a copy of Big Life Magazine, which bought my story about road tripping with my mom and my son in Oregon and Washington back in March 2021.
I found the final copy at the Barnes and Noble there and then raced home before the weather could get too bad, with an ETA of around 11:00pm. The roads were dry and clear all the way up until the pass on the Colorado/Wyoming border, but with 4WD locked in, I didn’t have any problems. Just the solitude of the road at night and the ground blizzards which whip across the highway like snow snakes.
Today, I finally got a chance to read the article. Other than a few edits they dropped in, it looked great! My son and I have a picture together in the pages of a nationally published magazine for which I am a writer in the Summer 2021 issue. The magazine is about living your best life, and in a weird meta way, selling a story there was doing just that.
My imposter syndrome has taken a major hit.
Sometimes I feel like moving back to my home town was the worst mistake of my life. It cause a lot of feathers to be ruffled. Parents often live apart so that they can pursue their goals and dreams and continue to provide the best life for their kids. I’ve known parents who live a thousand miles away and make it work. Moving has brought me back to court. This process is slow, painful, and expensive. I’m not a fan.
But moving has challenged me to refurbish a 120 year old house and push my comfort zones in so many ways. Recently I designed, built, and installed a secret door bookshelf because I’ve always wanted one. I have Scooby Doo to thank for that. In the last couple months, I have taught myself how to use carpentry tools and skills I never thought I would have used past Woods I in high school.
I highly recommend the Bostitch 16 guage nail gun, by the way. It saves so much time and makes a better looking product than trying to beat nails in with a hammer.
Also, in moving, I have a little bit more freedom to write. I’m making headway on the novel. I’m pitching stories to magazines. I’m getting out more and having new experiences and writing about them. Sometimes things get intense, but on days like those, I pet my dog, Penny, and I sit down to work on the book or write a blog post, or challenge myself. In the last eighteen months, I’ve lost a few people who were very close to me. I blame myself for a lot of that. My regret is that I wish I could have been better. But it’s hard to do that when your world is coming apart at the seams. We are all struggling these days.
I’m learning. Always learning. Some lessons are hard. They humble you. They make you grateful for what you have instead of what you want. You learn that you can’t take anything for granted. Not your kids. Not your health. Not the people who are closest to you. You need to appreciate every moment you get, because nothing is guaranteed. We are not promised tomorrow.
Today, I read that article and for a little bit there was a break in the clouds. I am a nationally published travel writer. I’m achieving my goals. It takes baby steps to get there, but a year ago, I would have never dreamed I would be writing these words. A year ago was a whole other life away. Someone else’s story.
Tonight I sit typing these words in my office. I feel comfortable in my own skin. I miss my son, but I am trusting in the process. I’m working. I’m keeping my heart open to lessons it has needed to learn. I no longer fear the winter like I used to. Back in those days when being snowed in felt like you were being strangled, for no other reason than you were locked in with yourself.
Tonight, I’m comfortable with that. Listening to my Portishead Live from Roseland NYC album. The house is coming together. Things are falling into place. What comes next just might be scary, the next push out from my comfort zone. The next horizon to cross and a whole other set of stars to see shining in the sky.