How, exactly, is one supposed to act when one gets within inches of attaining a dream? A dream cherished and nourished and treasured for so many years? Like a baby nurtured too long in an ancient womb…can something dreamed for decades survive the monumental strain of birth into the realm of reality?
The questions lurk in the shadowed pockets of my mind. I can’t address them…cannot even acknowledge them, for fear that the possibilities raised by the contemplation will be so huge that they will put an abrupt end to my forward progress.
It’s the commitment. The commitment overwhelms me now. Thirty years ago, I was on the threshold of the greatest commitment I had ever, would ever, make. And, same as now, I could not think in terms of forever. “If it doesn’t work out,” I reasoned, “we can always get a divorce. Walk away and start over. No hard feelings, just a clean slate.”
Not so simple, of course. Had I allowed myself to think about it, I would have conceded that. But I had to have the fallback. Needed the escape route. Because there was, is, always will be, that contrary little voice in the back of my mind that cracks the whip, hardly allowing me to dream. It scolds that nothing is forever. And nothing ever turns out as you hoped. Dreams are dreams. Reality is…. something else.
Edging away from the larger, more ethereal issues, I stumble over the more immediate sacrifice: I realize that I will be committing to a place that I call my home, that has been my home for the past five years. But to this chronologically-challenged aging child, it doesn’t feel like home. Home is the place to which I have been chained, and from which I have been running, for the past decade. Despite the words piled upon words, proclaiming the need to detach from that place, to break chains and cut ropes and burn bridges--whatever it takes to be free—I freeze. The torch is in my hand, I reach out to touch it to the closest creosote-soaked piling. And I shake uncontrollably.
I will stretch out my other hand, steady that trembling brand. I will set fire to that bridge. And to that part of my heart that has had so much trouble letting go.
About Me
- Lisa :-]
- Incredulous semi-centenarian, tilting the hourglass to keep the years from sifting through ever more swiftly… Let’s see, what century is this? Relocated from Chicagoland to the Pacific Northwest twenty years ago, because you don't have to shovel rain. I can’t NOT write. But words that no one reads are like the tree that falls in the woods. And so I’ve pitched a tent on this blogging beach, where I load my messages into little bottles, cork them and heave them into the surf. And wait…
8 comments:
I so relate to what you've written here, and I'm cheering you on! I hope, if I get a similar opportunity, I'll have your courage.
Judi
"How, exactly, is one supposed to act when one gets within inches of attaining a dream?"
Excited as all hell!! I know I am for you. I've been thinking about you for days...thinking it's any day now and wondering how it is going. Good luck!!!
I don't think you're giving yourself credit for your bravery. You're not just dreaming anymore, you're acting on it. You've already acted on it. Yeah, it's scary as hell, but you're still going forward. Give yourself some credit.
Of course it's scary. Scary wonderful.
Scared is how I would feel. As I have felt. Once you get there and begin to look around....I too have been thinking about you for days wondering how it is going. Your writing has taken on a burning assion edginess to it also.
I understand totally how you felt about the committment aspect of this momentous occasion. I also struggled when I took the step to marry. But that paled in comparison to the day I signed a 5 year lease for a ballet school. I was petrified. As my attorney rang the telephone asking me why the hell the papers (lease) had not yet been delivered back to her (Signed) all I could say was that a bird was flying at my kitchen window repeatedly as I sat there poised with pen in hand. It was as though it was trying to kill itself. Actually the symbolism was apropos. I was afraid the bird was warning me not to sign and I may have been correct. In the end I did. I got out after 10 successful years though ...knowing that if I stayed in the business any longer I would indeed be killing myself from the workload.
I hate when this happens. I write a long heartfelt reply and an error message pops up.
Seems I can't do anything right any more. Dang.
ha! It did go through... Good luck, Lisa. You are going to be incredibly successful at The Cafe, becuase you have brains, will and the desire to succeed.
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