Spending four months on Elizabeth has been full of surprises. Of course, the unrest all around me has been a bizarre overlay to these times. But out of that bizarreness, has come personal awareness. I've been forced to look at these two places in ways I'd never considered before. Side-by-side visually, I'm sure you can imagine some of those differences. I've discovered that my epiphanies are more subtle and (apparently) only mine to have.
With Mom and Dad in assisted living, I've been up and back between New Orleans and Ferguson regularly since fall of 2012. Most times, Sammie cat came with me and our visits usually lasted a week to 10 days...not really enough time to settle in and BE in a place.
Journaling from the kitchen, I was struck by the first feelings of ever being able to BE here. I recognized that all of my warm and fuzzy family feelings are held in the house on Kappel. (I'm thinking I might want to go back and touch our tree-or more.) For a long list of reasons, 411 has been a place of conflict, challenge, sadness, loss, and pain. Returning here over the last 40 years has never been fun or easy. So, being able to actually BE here now and recognize these realities for the first time has been huge.
I sat with a group of friends in Bay St. Louis last weekend. Some of us are social workers, others artists, writers, and more. While I was coffee-ing up, I caught a conversation about feeling left out of a big event many years ago. The woman next to me grabbed my hand and instructed everyone around the table to join hands while she repeated: "Let it go. Let it go. Let it go." She made me smile. I realized that I needed a little more, and did what I usually do on my bike...raised my hands high and shook it all out.
I struggle with holding on too tight. Completing some physical action to truly feel the letting go always helps. Life goes on.
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