pieces
“Remember when you were homesick that first week and just wanted to move back and I told you, ‘Look, you’re sad now but one day you’ll be back in Cleveland and you’ll want so badly to be back there, right where you are now?”’
He likes to refer to freshman year and my conversation with him the first week of school. I told him that I wanted to come home, live there and simply ride my bike to John Carrol.
I pause and know he is smiling on the other end of the phone.
“It’s ok.you’ll be back one day. But I was right…” he laughs.
Once again I miss a place that gave me comfort. I realize a place has as much power as I chose to give it. But for some reason, when I was living there, I felt whole. I felt like I was who I needed to be and if that idea got muddled, I could drift back to it easily. I felt like I could do anything, mediocre, astounding, it did not matter- if I wanted to focus my energy on that, it could be done.
I felt at peace with what I loved. I did not second-guess what I loved, only whether it could get me by in life. I wondered whether talent could be enough and I enjoyed pondering the union of the two. And then I left. And somehow those feelings were shaken up and never settled back.
It is just a place, but it made me happy. It is just a place but the people there made me happy. I’d like to believe I found something real. Real because they still make me happy.
It is just a place.
The pull people have can be overwhelming, giving a setting its true potency. The friends there still miss me and I miss them. Despite the quick and powerful tide of life and the distance put between people, if they truly care about you and you truly care about them- the tide is just a challenge that you can force aside.
The other day I drove over a bridge in downtown Cleveland and as the sun set I began to think. The emblazoned colors decorated the sky and the architecture stood bold. And I felt a sense of urgency- I felt I needed to stay. And it was not because I chose the city over any other. It was not because I couldn’t imagine being that happy somewhere again.
It was because I just wanted time to become centered and comfortable and allow the pieces shift into place. I guess that time will come soon enough..
He didn’t know anyone else could hear him.
Sitting at the dining room table finishing lunch, Grandma pressed the last few Cheese It crumbs to her fingers and licking them clean pushed her napkin gently to one side of her plate. Grandpa leaned in close and said, “Ann, I want to make sure you’re listening…are you listening?”
Although lately she was not as conversational or aware as she once was, her response seemed quite steady and alert. “Yes,” was all she said.
“I’m going to take care of you…even if you don’t remember some things,..well, a lot of things. I love you. Can you remember that?”
“Yes.”
“You’ll remember?”
“I love you too,” she said.
I was sad and touched and completely amazed by the persistence of love…despite the pushing and prodding from time…
As daunting as growing older seems to be…I want to believe that love is the light that turns on every now and then-- helping you remember, helping you see…
a struggle..
And so thank you for listening. For being someone I can ramble on to without wondering if I truly make any sense; for allowing me to say what I think and say what I feel even before I’ve realized why it is I feel or think the way I do. I never feel like you are judging me and it is a new and free state to be in..
When you recently told me, "Faith is a struggle".. I took comfort in that. Not necessarily because I believe it is okay for me to be in such an uncertain state…but because my questions, my doubts, my desire to pursue knowledge or faith in that something now seems to have a safe resting place...and I don't feel like I need to have the answers..I should not have the answers.
revisions
It was during a typical coffee shop trip with my Dad that we discussed his idea. We sat in Caribou and he told me this: people know exactly what they want and what they need to do in order to achieve their dreams. He said people are born knowing the exact steps they need to take so they can reach their goals…the goals that will lead to happiness.
Likening this knowledge to a map, he said we each have one…deep down we know what we need to do in order to get to where we’d like to be, but the human factor gets in the way. When he said this I didn’t know exactly what he was getting at…
The human factor is different for everyone, he continued, and is not simply one event or one person but a multitude of things that occur throughout ones life. Nonetheless, it is what side-tracks or re-navigates our course.
Coming to the United States, my Dad’s plan was to avoid a silly and violent war in Lebanon and receive a wonderful education so he could return and make his family proud. He carefully chose a major that would allow him to thrive within Beirut and began to pursue that goal. One afternoon at a café he met a wonderful woman and her friend. Sitting at their table with hot fudge and bananas, he quietly observed his best friend do all of the talking. And as they visited with the two young ladies, he became apart of this “human factor” phenomenon…He married that lady and stayed in Cleveland instead of returning with an electrical engineering degree.
After he explained this, he assured me that the human factor was not good or bad but simply part of life. It can be the death of a family member, the diagnosis of a close friend, a natural disaster or an unforeseen stroke of fortune…things not drawn out on your map to happiness. Because no matter how well thought out your plans or how heartfelt your intention to follow them, life has its own method…and it does not seek your consent and can not be erased…
And so, my recent feelings…a pull to stay in Cleveland for a little while longer…I can honestly say the human factor came into play in many ways and I knew it was happening even while it continued on…
I believe the hardest part about knowing it was occuring was accepting it and calmly going with the tide that was nudging me… Because my initial reaction was to run --to go far away in the opposite direction. I did not want to admit defeat or allow something that was unwritten to script my next steps…
But I forget sometimes that life works out. It has an odd way of adjusting itself after time.
And so, after this summer and after revisiting a good friend’s advice…I am feeling at peace with going with the flow and not running off too quickly. The good friend, recently lost his fight with leukemia but I glanced back at his message which even at the time struck something within me...I had told him that I missed him and was already looking forward to returning to Cleveland to watch more Brown’s games with him or just get some coffee and he said, “I miss you too but I bet this makes you think twice about where you want to work…”
And it was simple and it was something I’d heard before but for some reason, I heard him.
And when he left …it threw me off. I was not ready. But that is how life comes and goes…on its own schedule. And so, I think for now I am going to submit and allow this idea to gently lead me to the next step. Besides, I can always revise my map …
full circle...
I still don’t know what pushed me to get up and go. It was probably the same feeling that pushed me to get up and come back and the same one that grows and at times is so overwhelming that I want badly to go and pour myself into whatever it is that I’m doing so wholeheartedly that I will blow others away with my dedication… and yet I don’t know where exactly that place is…I keep skimming the surfaces to try and find it though.
And so here I am. Sitting in a coffee shop that I’ve sat in before…and maybe I was a different person at that time but I can’t go back now. The odd thing about the full circle concept is-- although things or routines pass around again, they are not as they were when they first passed…they are more and more complex each time. Yet, I wonder if it means something when people let go; and once they’ve let go, the feelings they have said goodbye to, fail to dissolve fully…How do those feelings become stirred up again…does that mean those people are “constants” within your circle?
They say there are several kinds of people you encounter…those that come into your life to make an impact and leave and only that change is left with you…or people come in and quickly flow back out for a brief period so that you can realize something; maybe something about yourself, or something about life but they have a mission and once it’s completed, they go. Then, there are people who will be there…through your happy faces and not so friendly faces…through times you can’t imagine passing and through times when their support is least expected but much appreciated…and sometimes they are in the background and other times they are front and center…but they are always there.
Full circle. I am back. Lost and not sure the next step because it is a new step and starting is a tricky endeavor. There seems to be this degree of courage, daring, stupidity, and blind faith that mixes together within me and I hold onto it with both hands because it has led me down a good path before….The path that led me to all of the wonderful experiences, people, and lessons learned the first time…that path that led me back to a degree of strength after life tried to test my legs…and those of my friends, just to see if we could stand tall and stand together after it was all through.
I am here. In the coffee shop as I have been many times before…thinking and overanalyzing as I have done many times before. I wonder…if I pass around the circle again, will I meet those that have been “constants” in my life again…I am probably not allowed to know for certain. That’s the whole catch about the full circle concept. You cannot see around the bend…you have to wait, be patient and live one day at a time and in time…
I can say this for certain: I did not picture myself where I am now. I would not have consented had I been asked…but I am thankful for meeting you guys on the way back around. I’m ready to take my next steps and trust you will be near by...
joe~
I first met Joe when I was in preschool at Saint Margaret Mary’s. When I think of him, so many images rush by in frames,. Nothing monumental just small moments where he is clear within my mind…
I see Joe in our third grade classroom. That was the year he asked me politely if I’d join him for a weekend picnic. Giddy and girlish I said sure and told my best friend that I had a date. I asked him to tell me when and he said he’d let me know, he needed to ask his mother. Well the weekend came and went and he forgot about asking and soon it was Monday. I was upset. He had stood me up. I asked him what happened and why he never told me a time and a day. He apologized and said he accidentally forgot. He felt awful and promised to reschedule a picnic, just him and me.
I see him turn around in his desk, reach towards my pencil tray and steal my pen to dismantle it…He diligently twists and turns it until the spring pops out and then looks at my expression long enough to smile at my apparent confusion. Then, magically he puts together the pieces and it’s functioning again. And I ask what he wanted and why he did that and he says, ‘I just wanted to take it apart and see if I could put it back together.”
I see him sitting in the passenger seat of my car on our drives home from VASJ. I loved singing along with Joe because he always sang along too. “Your song” plays and we belt out Nicole Kidman and Ewan McGregor’s parts… I glance in the rear view mirror when the Backstreet Boys “I Want It That Way” comes on and smile because I knew Joe and Tim are going to harmonize…and by their contemplative stares and dramatic expressions it was clear they were really into it.
I hear him say, “Heth,” and I smile because I can picture how he spelled it-- H E T H. no A.
He tells me that I am a great listener and he loves to talk to me about life in general…I feel honored that he thinks so and from that moment on I try to live up to his expectations of a great listener...
I look over and see him again in the front seat of my car only this time we are drinking French Vanilla coffee from BP and sitting in the Saint Margaret Mary parking lot. We are below the eighth grade classroom window talking about his recent girl problems and my recent guy quandaries. I am not sure exactly why we always come back to Saint Margaret Mary...it is just the parking lot and yet something about it is so comfortable.
I hear him say he is still sad that I broke the trend…that we had a clear record towards completing our entire education with each other and that I messed it up when I went off to Chicago for College instead of Miami in Oxford..
During college we keep in touch here and there… not as much as we’d like. He takes me to lunch after I graduate in the summer and while we’re eating at Tommy’s he says something that makes me smile. “I still owe you that picnic.” I laugh and tell him I’m not upset anymore…it was third grade after all..
I see him persist daily and shrug off cancer like it is just another small road block. He becomes an expert and likes to shock the doctors with how much he knows about the disease and how little sympathy he wants…
I am amazed by his strength.
I see him with his eyes closed, resting... I felt silly when I reached out to hold his hand ..I half expected a slight movement or brush of his hand back. I strained me eyes to see the rise and fall of his body beneath his blanket…but it was still. He was still.
Joe, I miss you and know you are without pain now. But I still owe you a picnic in the park. Soon…