"My little beast, my eyes, my favorite stolen egg. Listen. To live is to be marked. To live is to change, to acquire the words of a story, and that is the only celebration we mortals really know."--The Poisenwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver
As I engage my turn signal and drift into the left lane, preparing to speed past 2014 and watch as it fades from my rear view, I'd like to pause for a quick reflection of what this year has meant to me...
Earlier this year, I got pulled over by a cop on my way home to Flagstaff for the weekend. I had just gotten back to Arizona from living in Hawaii and I was staying in Phoenix for three months before moving to a Navajo reservation. I had a basket of laundry in the passenger seat and empty mugs and mason jars and plastic cups with the stale precipitant of dried coffee dregs laying anywhere I tossed them before exiting my car to work a long day at any given clinic.
-Do you know why I pulled you over?
-I was speeding?
-Well, yes. But you have a headlight out.
-Oh thank you for telling me. I didn't know (I knew).
-What's the laundry basket for? Where you headed?
-Home to see my husband for the weekend.
-Oh? You live apart?
-Yeah.
-That must be hard.
-It is.
I couldn't find my license, my insurance card was expired (though my insurance wasn't--I just couldn't prove that), I had a headlight out and I was speeding. The cop used my school ID to look me up (which had my maiden name on it still), and he somehow trusted me that my insurance was up to date. He made me promise that I wouldn't speed anymore ("You get terrible gas mileage anyway if you speed--remember that"), and he let me go. I'm 90% sure that he was gentle with me because of that lonely laundry basket in my front seat and all those coffee mugs on the floor*.
That laundry basket defines 2014 for me. I moved five times and had at least twelve roommates. I did laundry in countless washers, countless dryers. Though it was melancholy at times, it was also full of growth and fun. Because I traveled around so much and met so many interesting people, I came upon opportunities I probably wouldn't have otherwise had and I'm pleased with what I experienced and accomplished this year. I jumped in waterfalls, sailed with dolphins, swam in two different oceans, practiced a lot of pottery, graduated from PA school, and got my dream job.
My biggest accomplishment of 2014, though, was paring down the keys on my key ring to only one--the one that opens the door to my home home, the place where the love of my life lives. I have lived and been marked, and I'm so grateful for the words that the experience has added to my story. But nothing compares to ditching the laundry basket, to going to bed next to the one you love and waking up the same way. Sorry to break it to you, Barbara, but I think that's the only celebration we mortals really know.
*And 10% sure he was easy on me because I'm white.
As I engage my turn signal and drift into the left lane, preparing to speed past 2014 and watch as it fades from my rear view, I'd like to pause for a quick reflection of what this year has meant to me...
Earlier this year, I got pulled over by a cop on my way home to Flagstaff for the weekend. I had just gotten back to Arizona from living in Hawaii and I was staying in Phoenix for three months before moving to a Navajo reservation. I had a basket of laundry in the passenger seat and empty mugs and mason jars and plastic cups with the stale precipitant of dried coffee dregs laying anywhere I tossed them before exiting my car to work a long day at any given clinic.
-Do you know why I pulled you over?
-I was speeding?
-Well, yes. But you have a headlight out.
-Oh thank you for telling me. I didn't know (I knew).
-What's the laundry basket for? Where you headed?
-Home to see my husband for the weekend.
-Oh? You live apart?
-Yeah.
-That must be hard.
-It is.
I couldn't find my license, my insurance card was expired (though my insurance wasn't--I just couldn't prove that), I had a headlight out and I was speeding. The cop used my school ID to look me up (which had my maiden name on it still), and he somehow trusted me that my insurance was up to date. He made me promise that I wouldn't speed anymore ("You get terrible gas mileage anyway if you speed--remember that"), and he let me go. I'm 90% sure that he was gentle with me because of that lonely laundry basket in my front seat and all those coffee mugs on the floor*.
That laundry basket defines 2014 for me. I moved five times and had at least twelve roommates. I did laundry in countless washers, countless dryers. Though it was melancholy at times, it was also full of growth and fun. Because I traveled around so much and met so many interesting people, I came upon opportunities I probably wouldn't have otherwise had and I'm pleased with what I experienced and accomplished this year. I jumped in waterfalls, sailed with dolphins, swam in two different oceans, practiced a lot of pottery, graduated from PA school, and got my dream job.
My biggest accomplishment of 2014, though, was paring down the keys on my key ring to only one--the one that opens the door to my home home, the place where the love of my life lives. I have lived and been marked, and I'm so grateful for the words that the experience has added to my story. But nothing compares to ditching the laundry basket, to going to bed next to the one you love and waking up the same way. Sorry to break it to you, Barbara, but I think that's the only celebration we mortals really know.
*And 10% sure he was easy on me because I'm white.
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