Baby, Please Come Home
It's been an interesting year. Highs and lows, ebbs and flows. This time last year I was attempting to figure out how to announce to my family that I'd decided to leave the comfortable confines of my Midwest upbringing for a new adventure out in Seattle. Instead of making an eloquent speech over a toast at the dinner table, I ended up blurting it out on the car ride home (rather unceremoniously, I might add) with my parents. Uncertain moments gave way to excited confidence over time and in the blink of an eye, the car was loaded and I set off on a solo drive across the country to a new life.
I left friends and family behind, most of who were outwardly supportive. Some were not. But that's ok. There are times in your life where you listen to the voice that's not only the loudest, but the clearest - your own. I have needed this for some time, but let myself sink to a space of complacency. Since then, I have snapped out of it.
The second half of my journey this year, however, came hurtling toward me like a bird at a windshield. The renewed spirit and energy of my working relationship with my business partners-in-crime and the momentum of our forward march was halted. Earlier in the year, I found myself dumbfounded at the computer screen reading an email from my friend Suzanne. She asked me what I thought about taking over as editor on the website, essentially passing the baton forward and allowing me to run with it. Sensing my surprise at her willingness to place the responsibility of shaping the voice of what she conceived way back in 1996, she simply told me that she respected and trusted me to make the right choices and to inject positive energy into our shared project. She was ready for some new adventures as well, and she was the loudest cheerleader in my corner for well over a decade. So I did it. I grabbed the opportunity to pour myself back into work that wakes me up in the morning.
When Suzanne passed away this October, I felt it as sharply and stinging as if she were my family. I still occasionally expect to get an email asking me what I think of this or that or did I see this incredibly unintelligible article by so-and-so. I see her name every day when I'm working on the website. I miss her terribly. It has gotten easier to celebrate her in those small moments when I'm attempting to tactfully respond to someone and hear her voice in my head making me laugh. We understood each other, our strengths and weaknesses playing off each other in a way that made us both better. A kind of sympatico that she would always remark on before we would descend into a flurry of thoughtful conversation. I feel her loss as I would family because she was part of my chosen family.
As I gather up my thoughts and play out an elaborate sort of puzzle with gifts and clothing to fit everything in my suitcase, I turn to a holiday favorite that reminds me of heading home to the Midwest and South to be with my family, biological and chosen. Happy Holidays....
I left friends and family behind, most of who were outwardly supportive. Some were not. But that's ok. There are times in your life where you listen to the voice that's not only the loudest, but the clearest - your own. I have needed this for some time, but let myself sink to a space of complacency. Since then, I have snapped out of it.
The second half of my journey this year, however, came hurtling toward me like a bird at a windshield. The renewed spirit and energy of my working relationship with my business partners-in-crime and the momentum of our forward march was halted. Earlier in the year, I found myself dumbfounded at the computer screen reading an email from my friend Suzanne. She asked me what I thought about taking over as editor on the website, essentially passing the baton forward and allowing me to run with it. Sensing my surprise at her willingness to place the responsibility of shaping the voice of what she conceived way back in 1996, she simply told me that she respected and trusted me to make the right choices and to inject positive energy into our shared project. She was ready for some new adventures as well, and she was the loudest cheerleader in my corner for well over a decade. So I did it. I grabbed the opportunity to pour myself back into work that wakes me up in the morning.
When Suzanne passed away this October, I felt it as sharply and stinging as if she were my family. I still occasionally expect to get an email asking me what I think of this or that or did I see this incredibly unintelligible article by so-and-so. I see her name every day when I'm working on the website. I miss her terribly. It has gotten easier to celebrate her in those small moments when I'm attempting to tactfully respond to someone and hear her voice in my head making me laugh. We understood each other, our strengths and weaknesses playing off each other in a way that made us both better. A kind of sympatico that she would always remark on before we would descend into a flurry of thoughtful conversation. I feel her loss as I would family because she was part of my chosen family.
As I gather up my thoughts and play out an elaborate sort of puzzle with gifts and clothing to fit everything in my suitcase, I turn to a holiday favorite that reminds me of heading home to the Midwest and South to be with my family, biological and chosen. Happy Holidays....
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