A Year of Reinvention
JUNE 16, 2020. It’s good to look back and see how far you’ve come.
I started writing this piece at the end of last year. At the time, I thought it would just be a regular holiday letter to update my family and friends. And now, while I have been isolating with my daughter and her family during the coronavirus pandemic, I have done a lot of reflecting.
A year ago on New Year’s day I purchased a used SUV when it became clear that I would have to put a lot of money into my old wagon to keep it running. I certainly wasn’t planning on making such a big purchase at this juncture of my life. In fact, I had recently decided to take the simplicity of the Camino to heart and to not go back to work full time just yet. Instead, I sold my house and I am learning to live on as little money as possible.
This also felt like a decision that would honor my healing process. Grief, like an illness, needs time and rest in recovery.
I bought a 2007 Toyota Highlander. I admit that I was hoping for a newer car with fewer miles, but in the end, I purchased a good car within my budget that I absolutely love. My car even has some luxuries, too, like heated seats, a sunroof and a kick-ass stereo. This new-to-me vehicle, I knew, would become pretty important in my new vagabond lifestyle.
When I received a good offer on my house at the end of April last year, I took off in my Highlander on a road trip to southern California, where I stayed with my good friends Rand and Jill. With their help, and the help of my writing coach Nadine, I finished my memoir. Five weeks later at the beginning of June, with the first full draft of my manuscript in hand, I headed back to the Pacific Northwest by way of the beautiful Oregon coast.
Not long after I returned, I attended a training near Seattle on volunteering as an Hospitalero along the Camino de Santiago. I was excited to go back to Spain and serve in an albergue, helping pilgrims as they experience their own Caminos, and I had an assignment to volunteer in Bercianos in September of this year. Of course, the novel coronavirus has changed those plans.
Last summer, my car took me, and my companion, Chettie, a sweet man I am dating, to Montana and Idaho, where we got to know each other better with 10 days of camping, kayaking and hiking. Together we explored Glacier National Park and some Idaho hot springs.
I think hot spring hunting might be my new favorite hobby.
The week of Labor Day I spent four days backpacking the loop trail around Three Sisters in Oregon with my youngest daughter. This was the first time she had backpacked more than one night, and the first time I had ever gone backpacking with just women.
Then, with blisters still healing, I flew to New York City where I spent 10 days at the NY Pitch Conference and did some sightseeing. While in New York I honed my pitch, met some amazing women writers, rubbed elbows with some people in the publishing industry, saw three Broadway plays, walked all over Central Park, went to the top of the Empire State Building just like in the movies, and I was in the audience of the Late Show with Stephen Colbert.
Upon returning from New York, I house- and pet-sat for friends for two weeks. During that time, I got over my anxiety about teaching and stepped back into the classroom as a substitute. Later that fall, I did a reading from my book at a training on dementia to professional caregivers, and, I learned how to make a hardwood cutting board with sugar maple, cherry and walnut.
I also bought a vacant lot with a little canal waterfront in Ocean Shores, WA, that I hope to someday have a cabin, a guest house, a dock, and a hottub. It all seems like forward motion. I’ve done all of this with the help of my family, and Chettie. I am grateful to have so much love in my life.
I started writing this in Maui where I spent the holidays with my siblings. It was the first time in many, many years that all three of us have been together for Christmas.
Okay. Maybe stand-up paddle boarding is my new favorite hobby.
It’s only been a little over two years since Bill died, and the pain and grief still hits hard and knocks me over sometimes. And, I admit that in a weird and twisted way, I welcome that grief when it comes, like an old friend. Grief was my closest companion there for a while, and we became very chummy.
The heaviness is lifting. I experience more times of peace and happiness now, accompanied by an occasional sense of purpose. In my new lifestyle, I don’t have a place of my own except my car and my storage unit. I camp out with friends and family as they will have me.
If I’ve learned anything in the past five years it’s that nothing is permanent. While I shy away from looking into the future, I’m sure I will get tired of this camping lifestyle and land on my feet at some point.
Well, probably.