August 28, 2007

[snippet]

"You can't possibly expect me to believe that," she said, her eyes wide and unblinking. She held her iced coffee mid-air, as if the news just given to her shocked her hand like a statue. "Indeed it is," I muttered. I lowered my eyes to avoid her stare. I knew what she was thinking. My decision to move from the big city to the coast was never a topic she enjoyed discussing at length. It was as if the idea of her best friend from childhood being states away meant losing her childhood and her other half. I felt the same, but also felt our bond could never disappear. She was my partner in crime. Our lives had taken us to Europe three times, separated at Universities with miles of hills, treetops, and rolling green between. Though our life goal was always to come back to the city, build our lives and have families in tight-knit neighborhoods, we both knew that my life was not hers.

"What made you feel the decision was final?" she asked. She set her drink down and folded her hands in her lap. Her impeccable posture waned as her shoulders slouched forward. Her eyes closed slightly as if the saddness weighed down her lids.

"Job. Lifestyle. Housing. So many things. And you know I'm not one to have children, build a family and settle down. Its not in my cards. Not saying I'm not happy here, but I need more scenery to see. You want a family and you are on that road. My road is still being laid, piece by piece." I looked at her face and watched her eyes as I spoke. My words were so true that my heart ached as if I had admitted them for the first time to myself.

For years now I had been feeling an ache inside my chest. My fingers and thoughts could never pinpoint its location or reason. With each step I took, each date I went on, each new project I landed at work, the ache stepped with me. It was like I was walking around with this invisible fog over my head in which sunlight poked through at certain moments, but something inevitably pushed it aside and never let it shine down with all its force.

Three months ago I traveled out West to the shores of California. My ticket was purchased on a whim- I knew I needed a break. I had just finished my monthly article for the magazine, one week in advance, and knew I had ample time to breathe. California opened its arms to me the minute I stepped off the plane. I spent many days on the beach. I read novels that I had been starting and not finishing, ones that lay unopened on my bookshelf and screamed at me each time I passed them while walking out of the house. My dog enjoyed the beach too, he took to digging like a child in the sand, his nose dirtied and his energy drained by sundown. My stay was only to be for a week, but California, and my friends too, begged me to stay a week longer. My editor agreed, "time in the sun is good for the mind, take your time. You can work from California for the time being, we know you will stick to your own deadlines." I knew the voice on the other line smiled as the last line was spoken. I had been regarded as the writer who needed only her own personal deadlines to finish a project - never did an editor or photographer need to bother her with reminders. It was a quality I took pride in, but was more humble than boastful when it was discussed.

The extra week lead to excursions in the wine country. Winding roads that lead down to hamlets and popular beaches. The bay area was a means of a which a mind could get lost from coast to mountains. The social scene was different than back in the city. Friends in California took me into a whirlwind experience of underground vibes. In the city I felt as if I lived in a closet because I enjoyed the deep bass melodies while my friends danced to more alternative and popular beats. I joined the crowd on certain occassions, but at home, in my world, it was a beatbox all its own. And in California, that beatbox was spread out like a table cloth over the streets at night and no longer did I feel I was the little girl in the closet. I smiled a lot in California. Part of me felt it was only because I was on vacation, taking a break from life, but another part of me felt I was finding something I had been trying to find for quite some time.

As I stepped on the plane to depart California, I felt the invisible fog come back over my head. During the weeks I enjoyed in California, the fog had been lifted and I felt the rays of sunshine hit me with a cosmic force. I dreaded getting back into the city, my realization was coming into focus with rich clarity: it was time to move.

She and I sat at the cafe and continued to discuss my departure. As I told her more about what I would be doing and where I would be living, she smiled in shared excitement. We both knew the next couple weeks were going to be tough. Childhood years, adolescence, college, and adulthood - we did them together. Now the next chapter approached and I was to begin writing my own book. As we finished our drinks she said, in a soft voice that I enjoyed hearing when I needed her advice, "Your next chapter will be full of sunshine. I know you are doing what you know is right, in your heart. We may be a million miles apart, but it will never change our friendship. You were always the dreamer, the traveler, the spirit that held a different energy. I want only for my best friend to be happy. I look forward to the first chapter of your book." I answered her words with a smile. Anything further would have made the situation much harder to bear.