Just Around The Corner

The next two days were spent in quiet isolation, while driving north to MT. I listened to no music nor audio books. I spoke on the phone only occasionally, as necessary, but mostly, simply basked in my own reflections, drowning myself in the overview, analysis, and evaluation of the previous month. I enveloped my mind in a warm contemplation of the past, present and future and dissected and examined without limit or end. Any disruption was an annoyance, as I indulged profoundly in thought.

I knew I had a very beautiful and loving man anxiously awaiting my arrival. However, I was feeling a perfectly synchronized dance between an utter sense of dread and a powerfully magnetic longing. The last thing I wanted to do was to walk back into my home, what had been our happy camping house, alone, without my son. I was being tortured by the my own, personal little emotional terrorist, as I so intensely dreaded the sound of the silence and vacancy, screaming in my heart and echoing throughout the house, as I opened the door. I dreaded the crushing sensation of my aloneness. The umbilicus to my son had been severed, and what had been a bonded twosome of 19 years, was now returning a sole creature stuffed to bursting seams with nothing but question marks.

I also, fervently longed to see my wonderful man, the love of my life. How I had missed him while away. My heart doesn’t beat properly without him. In our separation, my lungs fail to inhale as deeply, and my smile lacks its luster. Unfortunately, with every quickened mile that I got closer to him, his arms, his warmth, his kiss, I also got closer to my dreaded, screaming pain. Why did they have to be in the same location? Drat! However, onward I drove, to the bloody, elated, loving train wreck that lay waiting ahead. With every mile shrinking the distance between myself and my pending…whatever, my feelings intensified all around. My heart was raced, my breathing shallowed. Home was just around the corner.

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Final Breakfast

The next morning, my final morning in San Francisco, Walter and I had breakfast at the Mandarin Oriental Hotel. Fabulous. I ate oatmeal, my first food in four days. It was golden. Over breakfast we discussed business and me. He made me the most beautiful offer. It was most overwhelming. After extensive dialoguing, however, we left it all somewhat open. He had several projects coming into focus, and wanted me in the mix somewhere. He said that he knew he wanted to work with me, and that I would be an asset to any one of his projects or businesses. I would leave it to him to evaluate his needs, paired with my skill set, and find the best fit. I would have to see where things would go and what time would bring. He felt that I had a great deal on my plate, and that my mother would have to be one of my primary focuses, at least for the short-term, and that his offer would be there when I was ready. He would wait for me to come to him. For now, he thought I needed to take some time for me and my mother. He offered to do all he could to be supportive and helpful.

He gave me the most wonderful support and encouragement. His monologue over breakfast was substantial, heartfelt, and wise. He said that although it was diverting from my normal path, my modus operandi, I had to take care of and think of myself, also. He said that he understood that there were many demands coming at me, all at once, that could overwhelm me and consume my time, right now, but that this was also a time that had originally been set aside for me to explore and learn about me and what I wanted for my future. He said his biggest fear for me, was that I would relinquish this time to everyone else, and it would pass, ever onward. Then, at some point, I would look back and say “what if” or “if only”. He said the biggest tragedy and casualty of this time would be that outcome. He wanted me to never have to say, “what if”. He didn’t want me to miss out on anything, and said that life is not a dress rehearsal. If it feels good, do it. If it doesn’t, then honor that, too, and don’t do it.

We parted at my hotel. I hugged him and thanked him for all he’d done and said. He asked if I would return for more interviews. I assured him I would when he thought he’d found a fit. I was pleased. I would miss him very much. His energy, humor, and insight were pleasures to be around, and I felt that he sincerely cared for me and my future. I loved San Francisco and would miss that, too. He was a beloved and unconditional friend. My blessings are countless. I had much to think about on my two-day drive to MT. Many seeds had been planted on this month-long expedition of mine. Though nothing entirely concrete came from it, I did so enjoy and learn, and I hoped with some time and given the proper conditions, perhaps a beautiful garden would grow from this venture.

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