Thursday, March 30, 2017

The Time of Your Life


I came upon a photo today that I had taken of Dale in Italy. He was leaning back in a bistro chair sitting at an outdoor bistro table in front of a trattoria in a charmingly rustic neighborhood in Lucca. His face is relaxed and looking heavenward as he absorbs the early spring sunshine. He is happy to be there, happy to be with me, happy with life. I want to kiss the photo! I want to hold it up against my heart. It makes me happy!

My mind journeys to that moment and how it came to be.  I remember a journal entry I had made while sitting at a table on the terrace of our Florence apartment. Suddenly feeling the need to remember every detail, I look it up...I called it.... 

Midlife Chrysalis

 How peculiar…a mere whisper of a thought, quiet and uninvited, and yet it transformed my life forever.
♣♣♣
Peeking around the green leaves of a blue hydrangea, a young and healthy caterpillar heads out into the wide and marvelous world to explore. Her eyes are filled with wonder envisioning the endless possibilities of things to see and do. Eventually though, being both intelligent and practical, she settles into the important things in life and gets to work, munching and toiling her way towards building her dream home.  Ever aware of the dangers of swooping adversaries, she employs her wit and intuition, and begins spinning and weaving silken strands of thread into a cozy, cradling home.  She works with joy and dedication, until, she takes one last look at the outside world, spins the last thread around her head and closes her eyes to rest.  It is warm and peaceful and she is tired and happy. Contented, she sighs; “That will do.”

And then, a voice, sweet and so soft as to be nearly silent, whispers, “But there’s more”.

♣♣♣
I sit at my kitchen table and scan the elements that make up my earthly kingdom. Polished and gleaming, the fully stocked kitchen makes an attempt to beckon me to try a new recipe. But I ignore that and instead, tilt my head to spy around the large Italian-style fruit arrangement on the table to check the blaze in the family room fireplace.  I approve of its crackling flames assured now that it is sending gray tendrils of lazy smoke up the chimney and out into the mountain air.  The view from the window nearby displays the mountain peaks draped in frocks of glittering snow.  I’ve worked hard to build this dream life.  My husband of thirty-three years is in far off Canada on business, but will be home tomorrow.  He swept me off my feet when I was eighteen years old and the ride has been an exhilarating one.  Kindred spirits from the start we had the same dreams and looked at the wide, wide world with even wider-eyed wonder.  But first, we must eat.  So work, work, work. And then enter the children.  Oh the children!  Two boys.  Two little people, who each, at the moment of their own births, make their way into our hearts and teach us that love actually multiplies to the second power. Through the years we find better jobs, build bigger houses, cheer from the grandstands at baseball games and wave goodbye to little scouts heading out for day camp. We see them go to the university and watch them fall in love with their dream girls.  I cry happy tears at their beautiful weddings and then, just today, my very own, perfect in every way, grandson looked into my eyes with his own crystal blue ones and said, “I love you Gwama”.  I pull the turtle-neck of my cozy cashmere sweater up to my chin and with contentment, I sigh, “That will do!”

And then, a voice, sweet and soft as to be nearly silent, whispers, “But there’s more.”

 Unexpectedly, uninvited tears stream down my cheeks.  The blue satin bow on the tiny white box tagged, “My Childhood Dreams” that has been tucked away in the confines of my heart for all these years is tugged loose and the lid opens. Childhood dreams pour out as if from a Pandora’s Box.  “Me: the artist, the photographer, the writer, the world traveler, the speaker of foreign languages”.  The unrealized titles spin around my head like rare and unattainable butterflies.  And I cry.  I’m too old now, 52, what I have . . . will have to do.

My cell phone rings and then rings again before it jolts me back to reality. I wipe my cheeks with the back of my hands and click it on. 

“Hello?” I say in forced cheerfulness.

“You’re crying!” my husband knows me far to well!

“No, just day-dreaming, what’s up?”

“Pack your bags!” he says.

“Oh, Dale, it’s a bit cold in Toronto right now isn’t it?” I moan.

“No, not to Canada!  You’re going to Florence Italy.”

I’m shocked into silence.  A rarity it seems as he is compelled to ask, “Hey are you still there?”

“Yes, I mean I think so, I mean…huh?”  I attempt to make sense of his words as I try to speak.

He explains, “I just saw a documentary on TV about an art school in Florence Italy. It’s perfect for you!  And I’m sending you there!”

“Oh I couldn’t, I just couldn’t…could I?” I ramble on…more like myself now.

“You’ll have to send some photos of your work and apply.” He instructed.

“Oh there’s the glitch!” I sigh and feel my heart sink from the height it had just soared.

“No, take pictures of your drawings. You can do this.” He persisted. “You’ve spent all these years working in my business, raising the boys, putting everyone else first and now it’s your turn, I want you to do this”.
  
With his voice cheering me on through the cell phone, I made my way up the stairs to my studio/sewing room/craft room/computer room and gazed at the drawings pin-tacked to the wall.  Figure drawings I had done years ago.  “I’ll do it!” I said.  “I WILL DO IT!”  He gave me the web site address and hung up, first reminding me of his arrival time the next morning.

The next moments were more like a child trying to jump into a swimming pool for the first time instead of a middle-aged adult woman.  Step to the edge, back away, try to gain courage, realize you don’t have any.  You really want to…you don’t want to at all. Leave the security of the solid ground and jump into the unknown?  Am I crazy?  Yes!  I decide….Yes, I am!  And I grab my digital camera and take the plunge, I snap picture after picture of my work.  Several, 8x10 glossies later…I download the application from the internet, fill it out in a shaking hand and seal it all in a priority envelope.  Done.

At just what precise moment a caterpillar begins to realize that her chrysalis stage is nearly over and a metamorphosis is approaching, I don’t know.  But this moment was mine.  The silken cocoon, which I had woven around me with love and earnest, was starting to feel a bit tight for my emerging wings.  Wings I hadn’t allowed myself to believe I had!
 ♣♣♣
 And so began my metamorphism and my 8 month sojourn in Tuscany spent stretching and spreading my wings.  I sit at a table now on my canopied terrazzo overlooking the wonders of Florence and scan my adopted kingdom while nibbling on a arugula salad topped with pears, walnuts and pecorino cheese drizzled with golden honey.  Four months into my experience, Dale sold his company and flew to my side, where he has also taken up the art of leisurely lunches, strolls through museums and palaces dripping with the highest quality of inspirational artwork, cooking the Tuscan way, long train rides through valleys adorned with ancient vineyards of grapes and olives and with great contentment, absorbing “la dolce vita”. We'll stay here for at least 4 more months and then we'll spend a summer in the Loire Valley in France for the next adventure.

I thought we would live forever, I thought for sure that Dale would always be by my side. If I had known then that 10 years later he would be gone...would I have believed it?  I couldn't have imagined that I would climb back into that cocoon and have to...albeit reluctantly, force my way out of it and spread my wings once again.

Life is certainly a journey and I see more and more how important it is to value every step along the way. I'm reminded of a thoughtful moment in my mother's later years when she, in all her wisdom, sighed and told me, "You know...Time goes by without you realizing you're having the time of your life."

So for what it's worth, and it's worth a lot.  This, right now, right here... is the time of my life and I'm going to make sure that through the ups and downs, I enjoy it.












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