I was invited to spend this weekend with the girls and a small group of incredible women at a beautiful cabin on a rippling, sky-blue lake. I was totally spoiled. I could get used to log cabin living, it was so comforting, the thought of getting one myself crossed my mind multiple times!
If you looked out at the lake (past the barren trees) and lifted your face to the sun, you could imagine it was a couple months from now and not mid-April in Minnesota. It was that warm.
And it was that amazing. At all hours of the day, someone was constantly presenting the rest of us with some sort of culinary masterpiece – for breakfast, lunch, dinner and everything in between. We shared quite a few bottles of wine and at least as many stories. We laughed (and I cried) through Mama Mia. Our beloved hostess went out of her way to remember every possible detail, including the fact that I like tea, not coffee, and I don’t eat wheat, and I can’t have garlic, and come on – who remembers those things?? Seriously. Spoiled.
What a treat.
I’ll be honest though, it wasn’t easy for me. AHBL has shaken me to my core. In some of the most fundamental ways, I just don’t feel safe right now – not even in my own skin, or my own head. Leaving behind my familiar nest here at home and venturing into a larger group of people, with just me, myself and my silent story… took courage.
Sometimes there’s just not really any getting away from our present reality, is there?!
Sure enough, the trip brought on several meltdowns for me. Four, five, I lost count. A lot of new tears flowed, new pain rose, new fears attacked. But friends were there to either listen or not listen, talk or not talk – whatever I happened to need at the moment. Long walks were taken, tissues offered, safe space provided. I purged out another layer of gut-wrenching words, I cried and panicked over how long this journey might last.
And here I am still in one piece. Stronger? Healthier? Mostly I just feel worn out. But Miss Sarah has assured me that, like labor pains, each wave of pain gets me closer to the end of this thing (and the birth of another?).
Today as we were cleaning the cabin, I spotted a little piece of fragile beauty that inspires me a bit. Something about that tiny Charlotte (see her on the woodwork?) spinning such a pretty web in the middle of this big, cruel world, despite the chance that her entire effort could be tidied up or wiped away at any moment…
Good luck to you, Charlotte.
by julie rybarczyk | shorts and longs | the both and
1 Comment