Undone...

In those days… {in these days}, I often feel "undone".  At my end, tired of grappling with the hard…. like so many broken pieces on the floor.  I felt that we had shot for the moon with building our house and business and the fall back to earth when it all came crashing down was more than I could handle.

Why do I tell you this?   Maybe because I think we tend to hide the hard and to hide from the hard. If there is one thing I've learned on this stretch of road it's that you can never really tell what is happening in someone's life from the outside looking in.  She could be walking by completely undone, and you just don't know it.  Be gentle.  

Why do we seem to look back to look forward?

Maybe you are not one of those people who look back.  More power to you my friend.  I, on the other hand, look back.  Maybe it was the influence of my dad, who had seen his share of days before I was even a glimmer in the eye.  Maybe it's just the way I am.  For me, starting this blog is my way of looking back to look forward.  Do I want to mull over the past forever?  No.  But I am not willing to dismiss it out of hand and say, "what's done is done" and not try to understand the hurt either.

I often think of this process as a wound.  When you are first wounded you don't want to touch that spot!  Not with a 10 ft pole!  You do your best to keep it clean, well cared for and let it heal.  There will come a day when you might touch that wounded spot with tender fingers… just testing it's ability to take that gentle probing.  But it's a long time before you can point to that wound as a scar and tell the tale.  In the beginning it's just to painful.  I think I'm in the gentle probing stage.  Some of the pain is gone… maybe even most, but if it's pressed too hard the tears still flow.

It's not just about a house, by the way.  It's about dreams lost.  Broken.  Not just dreams of a lovely house in the foothills of CO… no, that dream had a twin, very different in temperament, but born at the same time and it's name was VERGE.

auspice beginnings?

I'm not 100% sure what makes me feel that I want/need to blog.  I've had a running blog post dialogue going in my head for some time now.  Things I obviously feel need to be said… spoken out into the aether.  Whatever it is, I'm doing it.  I'm starting today.  Random thoughts for a random time of life.

I think, just to get this off on the right foot, that to go forward with my story I must in fact go back.  Back to the beginning, or maybe a little shy of the beginning, but close!  I'm not sure how far back I will have to stretch to get to the beginning… in truth I've tried to figure out where that starting point is for some time.  The beginning of the hard?  The beginning of the beginning of the hard?  Maybe I should just start with a common Wednesday in the month of April.  April 16th, 201l… the day I was untethered from home, lost to the world of the mundane.  Isn't it crazy how on a day when the world shakes beneath you the sun can burn down bright, undaunted by your loss?  This was such a day.  All must go on as usual… some semblance of breakfast made, backpacks readied and children off to school.  Just get through this part…the waving goodbye and the "see you after school!"  Just get back to the empty car before you lose it.  This was the last day to call 3070 Suri Trail, home.  All was already in chaos… furniture had been moved… friends lined up to help with the last bits… cleaning… moving the last of it… saying goodbye.  3 weeks of crying had not yet helped to ease the pain of letting go.  Three of the longest and shortest weeks I had known advancing toward this day in April, and there was no stopping it… no turning around… no re-considering.  Home had been sold… new owners waited in the wings oblivious to the rending on the other side… never hearing the hearts breaking and hopes shattering like glass.

Why so much angst over a house?  Well, it's an excellent question.  And perhaps I don't yet know the answer fully, even 3 years later.  Of course the fact that we had purchased the land 11 years earlier, just a raw, beautiful wildflower covered hill in one of the most beautiful places in Colorado that I know of, and dreamed a big dream played into it.  The years of labor and struggle, of money poured out and heart poured in… sweat, yes some blood and more than a few tears for good measure.  Certainly that is a process that bonds.  Maybe it was because building that house was the first really big dream I had ever dared to be a part of.  A venturing out into new territory, tenuous and uncertain… but in the end it had captured my heart, that beautiful house on the hill….