When you strip everything else away, what is left? I ran away to a tropical island. I left naked of my possessions, I ditched it all and said farewell to the world in which all good adults should live. I came to never never land. I left the security of the reality that keeps us going day after day and blindly embraced the unknown. Now is the after part, the part where paradise and happily ever after merge in what is usually known as the end of the book.
A tropical island has a way of stripping away the trappings of a life. I wake up every morning to balmy warmth, the sound of roosters and time and empty space that begs filling, adorning or at the very least contemplating. The minute ritualistic distractions of city life that keep even the most miserable among us busy with the daily habits of sipping white chocolate mocha's, paying the cable bill, and ushering kids to karate are gone in one fell swoop.
After 15 years in a marriage and having narrowly escaped the drudgery of modern life I am left with the this empty space. I am left to ponder the pattern of yes and no answers I am responsible for having shaped my life. I am left to uncover layer by layer the elephants left languidly sleeping in the room who despite their size where easily obscured by nearly a decade of modern adult life. Now we are just us here, the palm trees sway, the geckos chirp and in this peace the reality and truth settle like a cold cloud around my shoulders. I can now honor and weep with my afraid to be alone twenty year old self who spent most of her adult life obscuring sad realities with the business of life. Once you have run away from home, you cannot do so again you have to face yourself in the mirror and understand what is good and what needs fixing. This is where I stand now. Alone in front of the mirror contemplating what to fix, what to break and what to make gentle peace with.
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