Tuesday, November 8, 2011

This One

I hit the road again tomorrow. After a three week reprieve from travel, it's back to the airport to Baltimore for a meeting of the "Community Health Leaders" of which somehow I remain one. There are 180 of us from throughout the country who have been recognized for improvements in how health care works in the United States.

No one there thinks inside of the box so these are my kind of people. "Mama always told me not to look into the eyes of the sun, but Mama ... that's where the fun is!" That's the mantra of this group.

At this point in my life, I've been most everywhere I've ever wanted to go. A lot of places, I've been to numerous times, so much so, that most cities look the same to me. Sure, some are better than others but after a while they all seem the same. When I hit one, I try to find pubs or bookstores where locals hang out which is a lot more fun than sitting in a conference room or a hotel meeting space which all look alike.

This week, I've received texts, phone calls and emails from my St. Martin friends. "Where are you?" was the common question. Last year at this time I was there. I suppose they expected me back which is nice. After you've lived through not being wanted you learn what a wonderful thing it is to be wanted.

And I love St. Martin as much as I love anyplace. It's up there with Tybee Island for sure. Savannah used to be way high on the list but it's dropped out of the "Top Ten." Stevenson, Washington took it's place.

Havana, Cuba comes next followed by Hope Town in the Bahamas. I still get a rush in Washington, D.C. and Prague in the Chec Republic is the world's most beautiful city. New York City remains though I no longer love it as much as I used to. Athens, Georgia in the fall will never leave the list and of course, Key West rounds it all out.

Over the last year something has happened. The day before I leave has become a day of dread. I travel so much I have weeks and weeks of dread. There is a weariness to the road and honestly, I've really become a homebody. Goddess and I are quite content watering the flowers and taking walks to make sure that Shirley's sad little holy dock hasn't fallen into the marsh.

This tiny collection of friends somehow morphed into family last year and I miss them when I am gone ... and the missing grows more intense.

Then there is this one ... I miss her most of all. Days are no longer right when we cannot share them. It is not the day's fault, nor is it anybody else's ... save perhaps the Gods conspiring against us ... or forcing us to remember that absence does indeed make the heart grow fonder ... though "waiting is the hardest part" according to the prophet Tom Petty and ... waiting is a bitch.

I'm fifty-five years old and have done a lot in those years. I've seen the world and liked most of it. I've been glorified and vilified. I've been crucified and I've ascended to heaven on more than one occasion. I've gotten standing ovations and have been cussed out in public. I've held the hands of the dying and I've also watched the dead come back to life. I have healed and I have been so hurt that I couldn't stand in my own house. I've been so public and now ... I am private. I used to chase things ... not I wait on them to come to me.

Today I ponder these things. It is the dread of leaving the things you love.

I have too of course. There is money to be made and possibilities to explore. But I do these things for what is coming. Not for what's been left behind ... those are just stories to tell.

The God's have stopped conspiring and Paul McCartney is now singing a Hymn.

"Did I ever take you in my arms, look you in the eye and tell you that I Do? Did I ever open up my heart and let you look inside? If I never did it, I was only waiting for a moment that didn't come. There could never be a better moment than this one ... this one."

I love you.