I’m feeling inspired to practice my rusty voice here. The source of that inspiration: an old friend has reached out. If it weren’t for facebook connecting me with grade school classmates, I think she would be my oldest friend! I do love life’s timing.
This week has been brim-full.
Thursday’s calendar held a huge event that my office has been coordinating. We’ve been tracking towards it for months. A 5-hour varied program with lots of moving parts and hundreds of people flowing through the various pieces. It was a big success, good turnout, no unresolvable last-minute hitches. But that’s not the real story. The real story is about synchronicity, full circle. Almost ten years ago, one of the last things I was tasked with in my job at the hospital before I walked away was a big event. That event was one of the reasons I couldn’t breathe, could no longer function, couldn’t even resign properly. I just walked away. I’m very glad the world moved on and that I’m no longer so vulnerable to such panic.
That surely would have been enough for one week. But as so often happens in those moments when I am sure there is no room for anything else, other momentousness shows up. A couple of logjams in family plans started to break free and move downstream again. One such movement: we’ll be heading north for a long-delayed visit with my ex next month. He hasn’t been in my daughter’s life for too many years. And it will be Sandy’s first time meeting him. He is finding his way to living as long as he can with a tumor in his lungs. Time bends interestingly there, both forward and back. For all of us I think. The other big news is that my daughter’s leave from college has found an end-date. It’s been a tough year and I’m proud of her. I sense that we are all feeling the ground calm beneath our collective feet.
With another echo of synchronicity: my old friend and I first met in our shared dorm-room as new college students. Random assignment had put us together. We often laughed to think how others saw us. Back then I sported a punk haircut and wore ripped army surplus pants. She loved southern rock, drove a faded blue 2-door landyacht and was always generous with her belly laugh. We hit it off immediately, becoming inseparable and lifelong friends. Over the decades since, we have reconnected every few years or so… this last gap has been perhaps the longest.
If I remember right, I think it was my dad who nicknamed her “Morelee.”
Morelee, it’s so good to hear from you! 🙂