It’s been 6 weeks, that I am working at my new store. I travel approximately 50 miles each work day. Since I want my car to be reliable, I took it in for an oil change today. While heading to my faithful mechanic of 19 years, I passed the tree of my childhood “goo”. It has been cut down, as I knew it would be, and I took a picture of the remains to send to Timmy. I wonder, do tree rings really represent the years in the tree’s life? How many rings are there to count and where does my timeline, the ring of my life, begin in this tree’s stump? If Timmy is right about the tree’s age, my rings would begin about midway in.
So much has changed in my little part of this neighborhood. For example, the house across the street was purchased by a developer about a year ago. I had known the family that lived there since childhood, so I am familiar with its layout. I knew it needed a lot of work, dark and outdated, a maze of small rooms to navigate, but it served the family that lived there well. Now that the house has been updated, it is on the market again for an outrageous price. I looked it up on line and I was flabbergasted, not only has it been gutted and made all new, it bears no resemblance to its former self. Maybe that’s what a young family will be looking for these days, but not this lady. I think if I walked into that house now, I’d have no idea where I was. Even though I have visited it throughout my life, I’d be like, “Where am I?” There is nothing left to help guide me through the house of my “across the street neighbors” home. It is foreign to me and most likely, to any ghost that might want to visit.
The inside of that house has changed, but the outside remains familiar. If the ghosts of its former owners were to visit, and the inside left them confused, at least the outside would bring them some comfort. The yard remains the same and it is still conveniently located near schools, shopping, and transportation. Some of the store fronts have changed, but the general feeling of the neighborhood would comfort their souls. Even though this is an urban setting, it is comforting and feels safe, in that it is familiar to me. I am used to the “cement jungle” atmosphere, the hum of traffic, with no sign of “nature” to be found. Yes, there are manicured lawns and gardens, but no woodlands or ponds in the immediate area. The next town over has a “preserves”, but in my neck of the woods, there are no woods, only telephone poles and wires greet my view as I peer out the windows of my home.
At my old store, it was a similar setting. City streets and the type of folks who manage to survive them. It is not uncommon to see people living on them, carrying with them their only possessions. However, the other day, after spending the day “babysitting” the old store, as its last remains were gutted, I spied some of the “nature” of that “cement jungle”. On my way home, at a very busy intersection, on the corner sidewalks, there lay a full-sized mattress and a cross-legged man lying there trying to take a nap. I wrote to my mentor who had run my new store before me and stated that I felt it was very doubtful that I would see something like this in that neighborhood, and he agreed. This crazy sight led me to think, “Where am I?” I’m used to an urban setting, but really? This was a bit out of hand and in my opinion, not to be thought of as the norm…ever.
My new store is 25 miles away. My drive to the highway is 15 minutes, drive on the highway 15 minutes and then 10 minutes on the stretch of road after exiting the highway. It is a very developed area, shopping as far as the eyes can see, but there are still a few working farms along the way. There are patches of wetlands speckled about, where tall grasses decorate the roadway. Directly behind the new store is a pond. If I squint my eyes, I can block out the train tracks to the left and the adjacent shopping center to the right and focus on the natural beauty of tall grasses that surround the pond, which is more likely a flood plain, but it’s pretty, just the same. When taking out the trash, especially at sunset, it’s quite the welcome sight. I can hear the birds and the other day, a symphony of frogs, it must be mating season. It led me to think, “Where am I?” Hell, at my old store, while taking out the trash I would worry about my safety and hope to not come upon yet another dumpster fire.
A couple of days ago, I opened the backdoor of the store, just as 3 geese were coming in for a landing at the pond. I laughed so hard and thought, “Where am I?” It was a much-needed release because the day’s work had left me feeling drained and beaten. Every time I think I’m getting a handle on my new surroundings and duties; something happens that makes me feel defeated. While talking about my feelings and the landing of the geese to a demo lady I’m friendly with, a team member overheard my statement of defeat and said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about right now, but I have faith in you.” I wholeheartedly thanked her. I know I’m still in the learning phase of my new assignment, but I keep running into obstacles that hinder my progression and it saddens me.
I have stayed in touch with my former “assistant”. Neither one of us can believe the difference in the old store clientele and their shopping habits, to our new store’s. Folks gobbling up $8 yogurts would not have happened in our “cement jungle”, but in our new suburban homes, we have trouble keeping them in stock. No longer are the comments of, “Maybe next week.” when speaking of not being able to make a purchase at this time due to a lack of funds. Her new store is much closer to our former home than mine, but the average household income is definitely larger in both of our areas. No matter the amount of cement in either town, we’re not where we used to be. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it does take some getting used to.
While driving home yesterday, curving around the entrance ramp of the highway, I couldn’t believe my eyes. This time, instead of hearing birds or frogs in the grasses, I spied a coyote! This sight led me to exclaim out loud, “Where am I?” I called a friend, after the laughter subsided, and told her, “I just saw a coyote!” I updated her on all my “nature” sightings and how I seem to be traveling between two worlds, the one where I live and the one where I work. The one where I live, which is comforting because of its familiarity, no matter its “laws of the jungle” mentality and the one where I work, which is “nice” and has nature and stuff, but has its challenges. At the present, I live in one world and visit the other, something I need to grow accustom to, but always leaves me wondering, “Where am I?”
I looked up information about the meaning in the rings of a tree trunk. The light-colored rings represent wood that grew in the spring and early summer, while the dark rings represent wood that grew in the late summer and fall. The rings show when it was a rainy season or a dry one, scars from forest fires, and there are markings of where a branch grew. The width, color, and pattern of tree rings can tell us whether the tree was thriving or struggling. I wonder, what do the rings of the remaining stump of my “goo” tree show? Half way in, are there signs of growth and prosperity? Where do the signs of struggle and trauma come in? What does its last ever created ring show? What did this tree endure the last year of its life? If it was anything like mine, it was a year of struggle and trauma, maybe even a dumpster fire. A feeling of being completely severed from life as I knew it and thrusted into a time and space of forced demise and growth.
As I left my old store, hopefully for the last time, it was no longer familiar to me. Nothing of what I had built remained. When I found out that the “scavengers” that bought the guts of the place had actually wanted to take the swinging doors between the sales floor and receiving area, I laughed. At the same time, it made me sad to think, “Where am I?” Or better yet, “Where was I?” Such a harsh reality I had grown accustomed to, sort of like my marriage and my other relationships, I simply endured due to my level of comfort and feeling safe based purely on how I was familiar with them. What do the rings of my tree show? What will the next ring look like? I don’t know. I wish I did, but I don’t. I’m beginning to understand more thoroughly where I was and I have a sense of where I’m going, but the truth of the matter is, I don’t know where I am.
I’m someplace in-between worlds. Reaching, searching, hoping for truth, strength, and guidance. I’ll do my best, I always do. I refuse to drop the ball, but I’m tired, so very tired. I don’t think I’m sad about letting go of what was, but I’m am fearful of what is and what remains to be seen. I’m tired, sore, and confused. I feel like for every step forward, there are three steps back, but I do keep stepping forward. I will continue to learn and evolve in this new world where the coyotes roam and geese swoop in to say hello to the mating frogs. However, every night, I return to the “cement jungle”, the hum of the traffic and the familiar. I know where I belong and I’m okay with that. At this juncture, I do not live where mattresses lie in the streets, but I also do not belong to the world of easily enjoying $8 yogurts. “Where am I?” A crossroads, perhaps. A turning point? I really don’t know and that’s okay. I’ll keep you posted.
#thelieswechoosetolivewith
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