Intermission

                So, I’m sitting in the middle of Podunkville, NC listening to the classic rock love station on Pandora. They teased with the promise of the Beatles and I got Mr. Big. Ugh. So I “disliked” a couple songs before falling onto “Stairway to Heaven” and the only reason I’m here is because I’ve never intentionally listened to the song. And I’ve got to say… kind of bored. Then I switch to the 60s folk station, Paul Simon starts crooning “The Sound of Silence.” It’s one of my all time favorite songs, right up there with “Let It Be.”

                Now that I’ve got the time and the music is good, I can let my mind drift…. And drift it does. It drifts home once again. It drifts to Washington. I can see the details of all my friends so well that I feel like some specter hovering just outside of their lives, experiencing the little bits they share through texts and status updates. I miss each and every one of them, the catty ones, the motherly ones, the impulsive and the Zen ones. I remember days spent with my son strolling along the boardwalk and nights spend working at the job I loved or laughing with friends. And I get sad; the dark clouds roll in as I think that all that is going on without me. My friends carry out the plans and trips we’d thought up together but never had time to do and I feel utterly alone when I see the pictures….

                And then I remember the fights. I remember screaming into my phone until my throat was hoarse. I remember the hurtful comments, the arguments, the feeling of being used and using that feeling to justify manipulations. I remember all the times that would have been so much more fun if he hadn’t been there.

                This, of course, leads me to thinking E and I could move back to Washington. We could move north- maybe to Tacoma or Seattle. We would be close to my friends again, close to the mountains and the ocean. We could start over brand new in an old home…..

                Invariable, I think of my son. I think of what his life would be like in Seattle. I wonder how he would cope knowing that, although his father would be less than an hour away, he never visits. Or worse, he would make plans to visit but back out at the last minute and break promises if a better deal came along. I look into my son’s blue, blue eyes and stroke his cheek. He’s so much happier here than he would be there….

                Yet, the other day he pointed at a man that looked like his father and said “Dada.” He grins and waves at pictures of his grandparents and cousin. I wish I knew what he was thinking, how often he thought of them, if he thinks that my time with him is better than the time his father spent with him. Is it wrong of me, then, to have put away the pictures (in part for safe keeping but also because it hurts)?

                It’s been five months and I’m still living with one foot in Washington and one in North Carolina with my eyes to a future that isn’t in either place.  I pray that when we get to where we are going, we can dive in wholly. Please, welcome us with open hearts and open arms. We’ve spent far too long in intermission….

When I find myself in times of trouble, mother Mary comes to me, 
speaking words of wisdom, let it be. 
And in my hour of darkness she is standing right in front of me, 
speaking words of wisdom, let it be. 

Let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be. 
Whisper words of wisdom, let it be. 

And when the broken hearted people living in the world agree, 
there will be an answer, let it be. 
For though they may be parted there is still a chance that they will see, 
there will be an answer. let it be. 

Let it be, let it be, ..... 

And when the night is cloudy, there is still a light, that shines on me, 
shine until tomorrow, let it be. 
I wake up to the sound of music, mother Mary comes to me, 
speaking words of wisdom, let it be. 

Let it be, let it be, .....