Sunday, June 13, 2010

Close call

Yesterday evening, the end of a long week, was a weird salad of satisfaction and sorrow. Wonderful conversations with husband (who is finishing an important stonework goal on our house) and with sister and nephew (who reported on a new piano and their plans to visit Vienna) brought me joy even as they underlined the distance I'm choosing to put between myself and home. When will I see that beautiful Texas house again? What about the growing nieces and nephews, my siblings, my parents, my friends?

I went out to the Internet cafe, watched some World Cup, made a blog entry and answered mail, and went back to the hotel. Celebrating football fans sang far into the night. This morning, underslept and sad, I thought about canceling the two appointments I had made. One was a professional thing which could easily be handled over the phone, and one was a lovely new acquaintance, an expat who would have totally understood the situation.

But I didn't.

I didn't, and so I didn't miss the train ride into the bucolic small town, and I didn't miss watching the blue-green foothills getting taller. I didn't miss the great homemade coffee or the friendly Weimaraner. I didn't miss the mind-blowing room with more than two dozen harpischords and fortepianos in various states of restoration, and I didn't miss the chance to play them, and I didn't miss looking at the beautiful antique furniture and finding out where to hunt for it. I didn't miss the adorable restaurant (that opened in a former butcher's whose name was Tomasch and so the new owners simply changed the letters around on the sign and named their place "Stomach") and I didn't miss the yellow gazpacho and the asparagus torte and the brilliant conversation. I didn't miss the gelato or the several miles of walking through the cooler but still sunny streets.

There is so much that I do miss, and will. But I'm so, so glad that I got up this morning and opened the door.



YogaMom said...

Absolutely. You are one of the best yoga teachers I have met in a long time, Kathy. Not to mention gifted with language (in many ways). I love this.

lisa said...

I LOVE this as it is in that first decision to put our feet on the floor when we are depressed, and take the next step, and the next -- one thing at a time, that all the gifts of life and the world we live in are revealed to us. I am glad you walked out that door too but so viscerally understand the loss/depression that started your day. You are loved here and soon will be more than loved there.

Here's to the adventures in the second stages of our lives!

Lisa Goodwin Michael

Elizabeth Baisley said...

Angel, never fear to tread.