This has been a summer of love for me. You see, as time has gone by I forgot the fundamental of life, of living life. I knew that I had the basic and inalienable rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. I knew that I had a moral obligation to make myself a functioning part of society. I knew that I had a filial obligation to my family to make myself available and supportive whenever the call came. I knew that I had an ethical and matrimonial obligation to my husband to be loyal, loving, and faithful. I knew that I had a contractual obligation to provide professional services to my job. I knew that I had a certificate obligation to the state of New York to complete a master’s degree within five years. What I forgot was – what about me? What is my obligation to myself?
The summer started off at a crossroads for me. Some neatly wrapped little boxes from the past suddenly sprang forth from my psyche and thrust themselves to the foreground of my consciousness. I found myself quickly confronted by more baggage than Samsonite produced last year. The absolute helplessness that accompanied this betrayal of the mind is indescribable – yet I know that at one point or other we have all had this backlash of baggage. Just when I was to the point when I felt I could no longer breath beneath the pressing weight of the past I saw two hands reaching towards me promising to help pull me back into the light. As I stood blinking in the harsh brightness of reality my eyes focused slowly on the faces of friends.
It would be easy to say, and syrupy to read, that my friends showered me in hugs and love until I could feel safe on my land legs again. It would be a lie too. Real friends don’t hug you, and coddle you, and bring you soup until the pain goes away. Real friends give you a hug, dust off the dirt, and then say, “Well, what are you gonna do about it?” and wait for the answer. Real friends tell you to get on with it, get over it, get through it, but stop wallowing in it. When I plaintively cried to LCL, “but it hurts,” his response was, “so take your hand out of the fire.” When I whined to Jerhanner, “how many times will I have to do this,” without missing a beat she replied, “as many times as you want to.” The pure, simple logic of friends.
Where will my rambling little crossroads take me – I don’t know. The first steps have been slow and hesitant, but I can feel my soul picking up the pace. Rediscovering my self, assimilating new knowledge into my self, and allowing my self to grow anew is a challenge. I do know that I have accepted me, warts and all, and that is the first step forward for any mere mortal.
This was a summer of love for me. Not romantic love. Not physical love. Just love. I rediscovered two great friends who are willing to kick me in the a** whenever I need it. Two people who are willing to pat me on the back with one hand and slap me in the head with the other. Two people who are willing to give me the time to find me again. Two people that I love.
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