About 20 years ago I went to a workshop where we did a self-awareness exercise: nothing original; in fact, it was a little cliche. We were asked to visualize our perfect day and then write about it. The facilitator then asked a question that appeared to be only tangentially related to the exercise: What would you do if you only had 1 year to live?
My responses were written on two pieces of 8 x 10 bond paper: one peach, the other purple. I carried these pieces of paper across the country with me when I moved from Missouri to Washington. There were additional moves from Pasco to Richland to Walla Walla to Kennewick and then back to Pasco and back to Richland and back to Pasco and finally to Moscow, Idaho: the place I finally settled down, the place I call home. These two pieces of paper remained safely stowed away among my important papers each time the boxes were packed and moved and unloaded. I always knew they were there, although I never took them out to look at again, until today.
On the purple sheet, I described my home as " a quiet, private place" where, upon waking up in the morning, "I spend time thinking about how the day will unfold." I am engaged in "thinking, discussing, creating and writing" throughout the day, but also "take time to nurture myself." I spend time with "people I feel connected to" and end the day by giving "thanks before I go to sleep."
When I wrote this 20 years ago it seemed an unattainable dream. I was the parent of a young child, trapped in an empty marriage. I worked full time in a job that was fulfilling but all- consuming. There was no privacy or self-nurturing for me. There was no time to think or discuss or create or write. There appeared to be so many obstacles between me and my dream.
That must be why the facilitators asked us to do the next part of the exercise: we were asked to list three things that we would want to accomplish if we only had a short time to live. On the peach piece of paper, I listed mine in the following order: 1) make sure that my child is cared for, 2) have an intimate, loving relationship, and 3) write.
I am grateful that I had more than 1 year to live because it took me 20 to mark the first two items off my list. I finally feel that my daughter is on her own path. Granted, it is not an easy path to maneuver, but I am beginning to trust that she will find her way to a life that is hers to claim. My tenure as a parent is nearly complete and our relationship is becoming more reciprocal. At some point the roles will be reversed: I will be the one who needs to be taken care of. But for now we can relate to each other as equals.
Bill and I have been together for nearly 15 years. There were a couple of years of being crazy drunk in love and then the inevitable disillusionment with each other and with the decisions we made together. Finally, we have settled into a richer, deeper kind of love, the kind that comes from shared battle scars and tending to each other's wounds. Without him I'm not sure I would have realized my dream.
I am living the dream I wrote about 20 years ago. And now it is time to write...
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