I wrote a version of this letter last night and then left it for another version early this morning. Both versions were dark, darker than you’d like. Now, in New Paltz, writing in a public community of writers with the sun at my back and a ride up the Thruway under my belt I’m not feeling so holiday blue.
But I’m in the middle of an emotional hurricane-tossing and turning, sometimes out of control- holding on for dear life. Maybe that sounds worse than it really is but I’m always trying to find the words to describe this process of getting used to life without you- this reconstructed life is the hardest chapter of my life so far.
It’s so hard to blend the private and public pieces of this new life. The silence is so silent. For example, Last Wednesday we finished up that PD series at Cornwall elementary schools and it was a great success. Some teachers stayed beyond the session to share more of their experiences with us. Grace and I walked out to our cars together, hugged goodbye and off we went into the ink black night and I tried listening to Hebrew vocal drills for my morning session with Rivka. It didn’t last long. I couldn’t concentrate. I needed to share this great moment with someone who would be waiting by the phone to listen. Yes, there are people in my life that would be interested but would they be waiting for my call? No, of course not. They aren’t in partner mode with me.
Yes, I could create a fantasy conversation between us but really, that would not be enough. I really can’t be both of us. Instead, I teared up and clicked on a Fun playlist and somehow, I got home and calmed down and broke the silence with tv talk.
It’s a challenge, choreographing this life under construction.
Please come back and take me to our beach in Cancun,