Three weeks ago I took a big step, one I was still questioning the wisdom of, as I packed my suitcase the night before. I got on an airplane and flew to Portland, Maine, where our daughter and her family live and where Drew and I own a condo.
Let me repeat the first part of that sentence more slowly I.got.on.an.airplane.
Like many (all?) of you, I was tired of staying primarily in place – seeing the same sights, doing the same things, missing the part of our family I had not seen in six months and wondering when I would ever see them again. I had grown fearful of living my life.... to the point of stagnation. I no longer felt like myself.
My "Should I go to Portland?" pro/con list was top-heavy with one item – I want to go, or more accurately, I NEED to go.
Obviously, and gratefully, I survived and have shown no symptoms of Covid, to which I credit good fortune and my bordering-on-compulsive safety precautions. For a complete list, leave a message in the Comments section. (Just kidding, kind of.) But this blog post is not so much about getting here as it is being here.
After another set of precautions, I joined Katherine's family pod, meaning I could be in the same space with them, which for someone who has been at a 6 ft. physical distance from almost everyone for 6 months, feels like a reawakening.
I find myself outdoors at every possible opportunity. My senses are on high alert to even the most delicate blossom, the whiff of an unfamiliar fragrance, sights in tucked-in places, as well as broad, inspiring vistas. I may have seen them before, but never appreciated being able to see them, as deeply as I am during this visit.
I recently texted a friend as I was watching the last glows of a sunset, "A change of scenery is good for the soul." In reflecting on that comment, I've come to realize that the key word is change. For me, change has translated into a literal journey of new sights, sounds and reconnections. But in a broader sense, I changed the rhythm of my life, an action I can take no matter where I am.
When I return to Arkansas, I will look for the same sun to set; but I will need to venture out of my neighborhood, maybe even the city, to see it clearly – a new, and welcome rhythm.