The Ebb and Flow of Life

I sit here in Cincinnati, thinking about what it must be like to sit on a beach and watch the true ebb and flow of the tides. The water rushing in, wiping out the marks in the sand, making it a blank slate, and then receding back into the ocean, leaving momentarily so new footprints can be left on the beach before rushing back in to erase the evidence that someone once walked there.


This past week, I've felt my life was like that...

Yesterday my son and I emptied the apartment we'd been living in for the last three years and turned in the keys. We'll never be driving back up that hill, we'll never be climbing the three flights of steps with our laundry or groceries, I'll never sit there in the dark and quiet of the apartment at 3AM and hear the variety of bird sounds that the surrounding woods and nearby river attracted. We've moved into our house, he's enrolled in school and is excitedly looking forward to starting in about a week. There's so much to do, so much to put away and a good deal of "maintenance" type things that I've got to figure out how to do and would normally rely on a male to be more capable of handling. I should be happy. I set out to buy this house and now, well, my first payment book showed up in the mail yesterday. I was successful in the first phase of home ownership. Today I have to figure out how to work the electric lawnmower, I have to decipher the instructions for installing the trim line in my weed trimmer, and I've got to figure out which cabinets in my kitchen will be used for what.

In the midst of all this change... I had two VERY important people in my life tell me things that remind me of that tide flowing back out, that make me wonder about whether footsteps will reappear in the sand of my life. One friend is dealing with something that I can't fix, something I don't know how adequately comfort them for. All I know to do is give this friend something that I hope as a symbol of my feelings will comfort them when they need it physically and emotionally. I've put getting our new home in order on hold a bit so I can finish it.

The other person... I started writing this because I thought I knew what I would say, that if I wrote things down I'd feel better, and now, I'm just at a loss for words. I think of this person in my life and I picture one of those little heart necklaces. The kind where the heart is split zigzag down the center. Together, it is a complete, familiar object. Apart, and the half I hold doesn't look recognizable as anything familiar. This person who was my best friend for the last four years of my life needs to go away. They need to pursue other things, go places they don't think I can't go. They'll follow that setting sun on the horizon over the sea and I'm trying to find the strength to stand on the beach and watch them, wish them well, hope they find the happiness they seek. I watched them leave with the water that just wiped out our footsteps in the sand, my fantasy always was to be with them when they set out, to share those adventures, but now, I have to go forward leaving just my prints. I'll never knit that person gifts again; they needn't worry about dealing with the ill fitting sweater or wearing a funky pair of variegated socks. I can't fix this situation either. I can't work harder to make the outcome one I want. Right now I can't seem to bear to rip out the pattern I've spent so much time working on to start over, but at some point will need to be done.

Please bear with me while I try to find the strength to take that first step, to leave that first footprint in the sand. I have an idea for a window treatment I want to knit for my bedroom. I'm looking forward to sharing that here...