There is an old saying in Germany that goes something like, ''There is no such thing as bad weather, only inappropriate clothing.''
I was thinking about this in the middle of night, as I lay awake, cold and thoughtful.
After the second time I crawled out of bed, in between my husband and daughter, to go into the nursery to pop the baby's dummy (pacifier) back in his mouth, I had decided to just sleep in my daughter's room for the rest of the night.
There was no one in the bed, I was wearing a thin, short, nightgown, and I had just put her light summer quilt on when I made her bed earlier that day, so when I settled in I found myself cold and fully awake.
I couldn't help but wonder if this is what my three nights a week would be like when my children would be with my husband, and I would be alone in my new house.
Did I mention that my husband and I might be separating in the fall, and I may be moving into a new house with my children?
I emphasize the word ''might''. I am still unsure of what to do, but am leaning that way. He also feels that if I don't try it, the thought will always be lingering in my mind, and he does not want the worry of his wife always having one foot out the door. Nor should he; he has been a great husband. And if I feel our marriage is no longer functioning the way it should be, it is unfair for us both.
It's not particularly an endeavor that I want to happen, but I have always been one to follow my instincts, and my instincts are telling me that is the route I need to take. Walking away from this amazing life I have built for myself is insane, but also pretending that I am truly happy when I am not is equally so.
My stepfather, who raised me since I was 8 years old and died when I was 22, was about as sentimental as a potato. Unbeknownst to me, he knew he was dying, and the week before he did I was over his house for dinner. As I went to leave a few hours later he said, ''Can't you stay a little longer?''. I said I couldn't, although in hindsight I wish that I had stayed. It was then that he said the oddest thing to me:
He knew that would be the last time we would ever see one another, and that was what he chose to say to me. That was his final piece of advice, to carry me through life; ''Follow your heart.''
Over the years, I think I have forgotten that. I have been too busy being practical and logistical, and ignoring my instincts. My heart. And when I stop and listen, really listen, it is telling me that I am just not in this anymore. At least not the way I used to be. Not the way I want to be.
So, I lay there, cold, thinking about that German saying, ''There is no such thing as bad weather, only inappropriate clothing.'' I was cold, not because I didn't have a warm body beside me, but because I was wearing inappropriate clothing. If I had on my thick cotton pajamas, and wooly socks, and was nestled under an extra blanket, and didn't have the windows open a crack, I would be warm and cozy and wonderful. But the conditions were not conducive for that because I left things as they were, and the consequence was a cold, sleepless night. At any time I could have found my pajamas, retrieved an extra blanket from the linen closet, and closed the windows, but I chose not to. That does not mean that my nights in my new home would be all cold and sleepless. If I make the conditions right, then I can feel warm and cozy and wonderful, all by myself. It has absolutely nothing to do with a warm body beside me. I have had one beside me many nights and have still felt cold and alone.
As I finally drifted off to sleep, my mind was all over the place. I ended up thinking about my trip to the Pacific Northwest in September. And you know what? My thoughts made me feel warm and cozy and wonderful. My thoughts. Not a warm body, or a quilt, or wooly socks. Just my thoughts.
I thought about being at the airport, and the sign saying, ''Boarding'', and everyone lining up.
I thought about the window seat I requested, and the excitement of seeing all of Seattle as we land early on a Saturday afternoon. And going on the Space Needle!
I thought about how right after I drop off my bags at the hostel, I am picking up a hazelnut coffee and walking the 20 minutes to Viretta Park to see Kurt Cobain's house. I'll probably hum along to my favorite Nirvana songs, like Dumb and Something In The Way as I walk. And wear a flannel, of course.
I thought about how much fun it will be to meet my friend, who has become a trusted confidant to me. I thought about the Italian restaurant she is going to take me to in Pike Place Market, and what I will wear. Probably my pink lace dress and favorite pink retro shoes, because that dress always packs nicely in a suitcase without any wrinkles. I'll pack my thick black tights, too, in case it's a cool night.
I thought about meeting my 3rd cousin who is driving from Tacoma just to see me, and visiting my great grandparents at the Civil War cemetery, and seeing what is left of the farm they created in 1907 after they settled in Snohomish from Michigan. I think I'll leave them some herbs from my garden, wrapped in twine and pretty lace ribbon.
I thought about the pleasure to found in simply enjoying someone's company, with no expectations, or obligations, or strings attached. Just us, existing together, in the same place, at the same time.
I thought about my road trip to Mount Rainier, and hiking the Naches Trail Loop, and wondering what I would pack for lunch in my little hiking backpack with all the patches on it.
I thought about the adorable little bed and breakfast I will settle in to after my hike, and wondered what the other people there would be like. Maybe we'll even play checkers next to a roaring fire.
I thought about boarding the bus for my first ever trip to Canada, and arriving at my friend's house in Vancouver, and she and our other friend biking the sea wall with me at Stanley Park and stopping for dinner at the tea house there. How lucky I am to have such sweet, lovely friends to welcome me.
I thought about what Tim Horton's is...a restaurant? A gas station with a cafe? I'll have to find one.
I thought about if I am mispronouncing ''toque''. I am pretty sure that I am.
I thought about zip-lining at Grouse Mountain, and walking across the Capilano Suspension Bridge. I wondered if it would look like the picture on the cover of ''Travel and Leisure'' magazine, the one where it says Canada is the number one destination of 2018.
I thought about strolling through China Town, and how magical it would be lit up at night.
I thought about forest bathing with my friend in the woods near her house by the UBC and taking funny pictures.
I thought about the possibility of meeting one of my professional idols for coffee and wondering what brilliant things he might have to say.
I thought about going to the film festival, where I would probably wear my pink lace dress again, and watch some thought-provoking movie that I would still be thinking about weeks later.
So as I lay there, cold, my thoughts did not gravitate to warm places I had been, like the sunny beaches of Koh Phangan, or riding a wild elephant on the Andaman Islands of India, or standing in the depths of the Colosseum on a hot summer's day in Rome. I didn't even think about our highly-anticipated upcoming family vacation, to a beautiful island in Florida on the Gulf of Mexico, with its white sand and clear, calm water.
Instead I thought about a place where it will probably be cold and pissing down with rain half the time I am there.
Weird. It didn't make any sense to me.
Then I thought about the last thing my stepfather ever said to me; ''Follow your heart. It knows things before you do.''
Maybe it doesn't have to make any sense. Maybe I don't need to analyze everything. Maybe he was right, and I just need to follow my heart. Maybe it does know something before I do.
Maybe I thought about all of those things because they symbolize my independence. They are all symbolic of me and not we. My friends, my family, my ancestors, my ''vision quest'' on Mount Rainier. After 11 years of marriage, maybe thinking about me and not we was simply a foreign concept.
Just like sleeping alone in my very own house.
I know now that if I ensure I have the appropriate conditions, or as the Germans would say, the appropriate clothing, I will be prepared for whatever bad weather comes my way. It will be okay.
I will follow my heart, and I will be okay.
(I think...I hope... Yeah, I will be okay. Someone please remind me of that in case I forget.)
I was thinking about this in the middle of night, as I lay awake, cold and thoughtful.
After the second time I crawled out of bed, in between my husband and daughter, to go into the nursery to pop the baby's dummy (pacifier) back in his mouth, I had decided to just sleep in my daughter's room for the rest of the night.
There was no one in the bed, I was wearing a thin, short, nightgown, and I had just put her light summer quilt on when I made her bed earlier that day, so when I settled in I found myself cold and fully awake.
I couldn't help but wonder if this is what my three nights a week would be like when my children would be with my husband, and I would be alone in my new house.
Did I mention that my husband and I might be separating in the fall, and I may be moving into a new house with my children?
I emphasize the word ''might''. I am still unsure of what to do, but am leaning that way. He also feels that if I don't try it, the thought will always be lingering in my mind, and he does not want the worry of his wife always having one foot out the door. Nor should he; he has been a great husband. And if I feel our marriage is no longer functioning the way it should be, it is unfair for us both.
It's not particularly an endeavor that I want to happen, but I have always been one to follow my instincts, and my instincts are telling me that is the route I need to take. Walking away from this amazing life I have built for myself is insane, but also pretending that I am truly happy when I am not is equally so.
My stepfather, who raised me since I was 8 years old and died when I was 22, was about as sentimental as a potato. Unbeknownst to me, he knew he was dying, and the week before he did I was over his house for dinner. As I went to leave a few hours later he said, ''Can't you stay a little longer?''. I said I couldn't, although in hindsight I wish that I had stayed. It was then that he said the oddest thing to me:
''Follow your heart. Promise me you won't forget that, okay? It's always right, and it knows things before you do. Don't ever forget that.''
He knew that would be the last time we would ever see one another, and that was what he chose to say to me. That was his final piece of advice, to carry me through life; ''Follow your heart.''
Over the years, I think I have forgotten that. I have been too busy being practical and logistical, and ignoring my instincts. My heart. And when I stop and listen, really listen, it is telling me that I am just not in this anymore. At least not the way I used to be. Not the way I want to be.
So, I lay there, cold, thinking about that German saying, ''There is no such thing as bad weather, only inappropriate clothing.'' I was cold, not because I didn't have a warm body beside me, but because I was wearing inappropriate clothing. If I had on my thick cotton pajamas, and wooly socks, and was nestled under an extra blanket, and didn't have the windows open a crack, I would be warm and cozy and wonderful. But the conditions were not conducive for that because I left things as they were, and the consequence was a cold, sleepless night. At any time I could have found my pajamas, retrieved an extra blanket from the linen closet, and closed the windows, but I chose not to. That does not mean that my nights in my new home would be all cold and sleepless. If I make the conditions right, then I can feel warm and cozy and wonderful, all by myself. It has absolutely nothing to do with a warm body beside me. I have had one beside me many nights and have still felt cold and alone.
As I finally drifted off to sleep, my mind was all over the place. I ended up thinking about my trip to the Pacific Northwest in September. And you know what? My thoughts made me feel warm and cozy and wonderful. My thoughts. Not a warm body, or a quilt, or wooly socks. Just my thoughts.
I thought about being at the airport, and the sign saying, ''Boarding'', and everyone lining up.
I thought about the window seat I requested, and the excitement of seeing all of Seattle as we land early on a Saturday afternoon. And going on the Space Needle!
I thought about how right after I drop off my bags at the hostel, I am picking up a hazelnut coffee and walking the 20 minutes to Viretta Park to see Kurt Cobain's house. I'll probably hum along to my favorite Nirvana songs, like Dumb and Something In The Way as I walk. And wear a flannel, of course.
I thought about how much fun it will be to meet my friend, who has become a trusted confidant to me. I thought about the Italian restaurant she is going to take me to in Pike Place Market, and what I will wear. Probably my pink lace dress and favorite pink retro shoes, because that dress always packs nicely in a suitcase without any wrinkles. I'll pack my thick black tights, too, in case it's a cool night.
I thought about meeting my 3rd cousin who is driving from Tacoma just to see me, and visiting my great grandparents at the Civil War cemetery, and seeing what is left of the farm they created in 1907 after they settled in Snohomish from Michigan. I think I'll leave them some herbs from my garden, wrapped in twine and pretty lace ribbon.
I thought about the pleasure to found in simply enjoying someone's company, with no expectations, or obligations, or strings attached. Just us, existing together, in the same place, at the same time.
I thought about my road trip to Mount Rainier, and hiking the Naches Trail Loop, and wondering what I would pack for lunch in my little hiking backpack with all the patches on it.
I thought about the adorable little bed and breakfast I will settle in to after my hike, and wondered what the other people there would be like. Maybe we'll even play checkers next to a roaring fire.
I thought about boarding the bus for my first ever trip to Canada, and arriving at my friend's house in Vancouver, and she and our other friend biking the sea wall with me at Stanley Park and stopping for dinner at the tea house there. How lucky I am to have such sweet, lovely friends to welcome me.
I thought about what Tim Horton's is...a restaurant? A gas station with a cafe? I'll have to find one.
I thought about if I am mispronouncing ''toque''. I am pretty sure that I am.
I thought about zip-lining at Grouse Mountain, and walking across the Capilano Suspension Bridge. I wondered if it would look like the picture on the cover of ''Travel and Leisure'' magazine, the one where it says Canada is the number one destination of 2018.
I thought about strolling through China Town, and how magical it would be lit up at night.
I thought about forest bathing with my friend in the woods near her house by the UBC and taking funny pictures.
I thought about the possibility of meeting one of my professional idols for coffee and wondering what brilliant things he might have to say.
I thought about going to the film festival, where I would probably wear my pink lace dress again, and watch some thought-provoking movie that I would still be thinking about weeks later.
So as I lay there, cold, my thoughts did not gravitate to warm places I had been, like the sunny beaches of Koh Phangan, or riding a wild elephant on the Andaman Islands of India, or standing in the depths of the Colosseum on a hot summer's day in Rome. I didn't even think about our highly-anticipated upcoming family vacation, to a beautiful island in Florida on the Gulf of Mexico, with its white sand and clear, calm water.
 |
| Warmer Days: Goa, India, February 2009 |
Weird. It didn't make any sense to me.
Then I thought about the last thing my stepfather ever said to me; ''Follow your heart. It knows things before you do.''
Maybe it doesn't have to make any sense. Maybe I don't need to analyze everything. Maybe he was right, and I just need to follow my heart. Maybe it does know something before I do.
Maybe I thought about all of those things because they symbolize my independence. They are all symbolic of me and not we. My friends, my family, my ancestors, my ''vision quest'' on Mount Rainier. After 11 years of marriage, maybe thinking about me and not we was simply a foreign concept.
Just like sleeping alone in my very own house.
I know now that if I ensure I have the appropriate conditions, or as the Germans would say, the appropriate clothing, I will be prepared for whatever bad weather comes my way. It will be okay.
I will follow my heart, and I will be okay.
(I think...I hope... Yeah, I will be okay. Someone please remind me of that in case I forget.)
 |
| A new patch for my hiking backpack. (And yes, I DO excitedly open my mail like a rabid animal.) |
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