Seasons of Change

Okay, this has nothing at all to do with the subject of my entry today, but let me just state for the record that I have done a load of laundry, fixed a large and healthy breakfast, done the dishes, scrubbed the upstairs bathroom, cleaned the living room and kitchen (including windows,) swept AND mopped the entire upstairs - all before 10 AM.  That's what I call TCB.  RIGHT ON.

 

Now, on with the show.

 

Last night, as I sat with my husband, I started to think about how much I've grown up in the last 7 years.  It's startling, really.  This has been a part of my life story and it happens every so often.  Huge expansive growth, sometimes taking it's time, sometimes coming in spurts like an infant turning into a child.  Makes me wonder - what precipitates such growth?  Such change?  If I look back into my history, can I see a pattern?  Can I see a jumping off point?

 

I think I can.  Well, I can see at least 2. 

 

The Summer of 1993

This was the year of the Hundred Years Flood.  The town I lived in was pretty much shut off from the rest of the world and I was 17 years old, about to start my Senior year of High School.  I was dating a guy who was absolutely unlike anything I had ever known and unlike anything that my parents hoped for me.  This was the summer I discovered camping and whiskey and weed, Marlboro reds, The Allman Brothers, The Grateful Dead, Little Feat, the power and downfall of my sexuality.  I learned the power of NO, the power of YES, and the power of Nunya - as in "it's Nunya business."  This is the summer I got my tattoo, at least 4 new ear piercings, my own set of wheels, my appreciation for girlfriends, loud music, Doc Martens.  It was the summer that my parents split from each other and I began my split from them.

 

For a long time, I thought this summer was the best summer of my life.  I thought that it would define me forever.  Even now, I can remember certain moments so clearly, it's as if I lived them just yesterday. 

• Riding to the County Fair in a big ol' truck owned by my buddy Matt's dad.  Sitting in the back seat, the only girl in the vehicle, smoking a joint and hearing Melissa for the very first time.  To this day, it's still my favorite Allman Bros song and I cannot hear it without closing my eyes and seeing the red interior of the truck and smelling the river that had inundated our town.
• Hanging out in the bowling alley, shooting pool, and smoking - in comes my friend Beth with a red nose that has a new little thingy on it - she had pierced her own nose by shoving an earring through it.  You wouldn't believe where she is now.  To celebrate, my band of merry outlaws walked along the highway until we got the Crunchy Kittens where we pooled all our change and ordered 6 cups of coffee, Moz sticks, and potato skins.  We then spent about 4 hours there, about 3 hours and 35 minutes longer than it took us to eat the artery clogging foods.
• Hearing the terror in my boyfriend's voice as the flood waters came up through the heating vent in his grandmother's floor and learning of my parents love for me when they sold his family furniture really cheaply to replace what the waters had taken away.  They loathed him, yet they helped him and his family.  BTW, Steve, you still owe my dad $40.

I thought that this summer was the summer written about in songs, the summer that would stand the test of time as the litmus test of who I would become.  I thought this until ...

 

The Summer of 1999

This was the summer I grew my dreadlocks, the summer my best friend lost her father to his own gun, the summer that I lost the illusion that I was happy where I was.  It was the summer I found Waylon Jennings, George Jones, and Merle Haggard, 1983 Landcruisers, sushi, and that an Eagle Talon can go 70 mph in a parking lot.  I learned what true friendship is, what risks are worth taking, what ethics really matter.  I learned that I'm enough on my own, that you cannot judge a book by it's cover, that I'm worth the risk of taking a gigantic leap of faith. I learned that Shiner Bock, Merlot, ganja, and Xanax put me to sleep for hours if taken all at once.  I learned that the mind body connection is stronger than conventional wisdom, that sometimes knowing that it's right is enough, even when it doesn't make any sense.  This was the summer that I learned that I belong with a long haired country boy.

 

Again, memories are so fresh.

 

• Running into the bathroom to comfort my best friend as the gravity of her father's suicide hit her full force, yet again.  I cannot imagine her pain - but I know it was too much for her to even pee. 
• Sitting in the woods, drinking beer, and hearing this guy who electrified me say, "I think we're having a moment of our own."
• Skipping a huge concert to spend time with my friends
• Twisting my dreadlocks, drinking wine, smoking the herb, and watching Bob Marley videos over and over again.
• That little apartment on 10th street with no a/c or hot water that, to us, was heaven on earth because we could be together.
• Getting doused with water at a Ziggy Marley concert and not wanting to kill the guy who did it.  It's been over 6 years and he's still alive and in fact, is now married to me!

Reading over that summer, it seems so insignificant.  I cannot put it into words, but let me just say that the summer was anything but insignificant.  It changed my life.  Maybe it started my life.  I don't know, but I can say this - no matter how hard it was, I'd never change one thing.

 

Summers now are spent slathering sunscreen on little bodies, playing in the sandbox, doing work on the house we own.  Long gone are the days of being drunk by 2 pm and having sex 4 times a day.  Long gone are the hangovers, the lost stashes, the landlord concerns, and the questions of "who am I?"  It's a nice trade.  I'm happy where I am.

 

What will mark my next jumping off point?  Hard to say.  I'm sure it will shape and mold me into something new and improved.  There's lots of room for improvement and I've got lots of time.  I'm just going to hold on and enjoy the ride.