How,
exactly, is one supposed to act when one gets within inches of attaining
a dream? A dream cherished and nourished and treasured for so many
years? Like a baby nurtured too long in an ancient womb…can something
dreamed for decades survive the monumental strain of birth into the
realm of reality?
The questions lurk in the shadowed pockets of
my mind. I can’t address them…cannot even acknowledge them, for fear
that the possibilities raised by the contemplation will be so huge that
they will put an abrupt end to my forward progress.
It’s the
commitment. The commitment overwhelms me now. Thirty years ago, I was on
the threshold of the greatest commitment I had ever, would ever, make.
And, same as now, I could not think in terms of forever. “If it doesn’t
work out,” I reasoned, “we can always get a divorce. Walk away and start
over. No hard feelings, just a clean slate.”
Not so simple, of
course. Had I allowed myself to think about it, I would have conceded
that. But I had to have the fallback. Needed the escape route. Because
there was, is, always will be, that contrary little voice in the back of
my mind that cracks the whip, hardly allowing me to dream. It scolds
that nothing is forever. And nothing ever turns out as you hoped. Dreams
are dreams. Reality is…. something else.
Edging away from the
larger, more ethereal issues, I stumble over the more immediate
sacrifice: I realize that I will be committing to a place that I call my
home, that has been my home for the past five years. But to this
chronologically-challenged aging child, it doesn’t feel like home. Home
is the place to which I have been chained, and from which I have been
running, for the past decade. Despite the words piled upon words,
proclaiming the need to detach from that place, to break chains and cut
ropes and burn bridges--whatever it takes to be free—I freeze. The torch
is in my hand, I reach out to touch it to the closest creosote-soaked
piling. And I shake uncontrollably.
I will stretch out my other
hand, steady that trembling brand. I will set fire to that bridge. And
to that part of my heart that has had so much trouble letting go.
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