Back to “reality,” I calculated that upon rolling into the driveway in Philly, I had driven about 7,000 miles in 23 days. With the car at Subaru for servicing and a well-earned detailing, now that we (the Blubaru and I) are back, I am stilled and returned to the indoors. I’ve been dealing with re-entry issues since the night I got home, struggling some, but not bawling like I did that first night. I’ve managed to write again, post more blog updates, try to catch up with time and space. I gradually dig through the mail, cuddle my sweet Sofia, do laundry, remember I have other clothes, yet generally have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing here. Finally, I just had to get outside. I’d become so used to being outdoors and having the sky over my head, that my restlessness, my captivity, made me feel so “off” that I felt nearly ill. I had been out for so many days and hours now, I realize it is simply going to be hard to be back “in.” So, I hopped in my shinily cleaned-up buggy, and drove down the driveway, only to realize I had zero idea where to go. Bewildered at the end of the driveway, no idea whether to turn uphill or down, I realized there is no place in the Philadelphia environs that could begin to offer the kind of space and majesty I had become accustomed to on the road, and now simply craved. There is simply no place here for me to go to get what I need outdoors. Maybe if I went all the way up to Bucks County or something, but that’s a schlep and I don’t know where I’d be going. There is no place I know of that I could just get in my car and go.
Since returning, I’ve been back to my ear-nose-and-throat doctor, and it looks like perhaps some of my physical symptoms I’ve had – the ones that haven’t begun resolving – may in fact be due to a significant sinus problem. It turns out one of my sinuses is almost completely filled with fluid and inflamed tissue (yucky, I know). Before recommending surgery, the doc said let’s try a longish course of antibiotics. So I’m on two weeks of augmentin, which means no drinking. Which totally sucks — to have to be back from the Big Drive but have no cocktails. But on the upside, in two weeks, or sooner perhaps, I may start to feel even better. The weird thing about my sinuses is that apparently I’ve been putting two and two together and getting 22. Back in Albuquerque, Hazel, the healer woman I’d met, had worked on me (physically, in addition to prophesying), as I was having problems with my neck. And she was working on this spot at the top of my neck and the base of my skull, and she’d actually said, “That’s your sinuses.” And I’d thought she was out of her mind, retorting “My sinuses are fine!” Which I was so sure of, because this condition is not behaving like a normal sinus infection. But it explains so many of the things I’ve been feeling, and perhaps the low-grade ickiness in general as well; my body’s been trying to deal with something that it can’t handle on its own. So, maybe soon I’ll start to feel better, like all better. And maybe it’s not all in my head after all – or rather, it is, but shows up on an MRI. So, two and two equals four. Whatd’ya know.
And, meantime, I’ve had yet another reminder of the whole “other people’s lives in progress” concept. After being gung-ho about me coming back to Dallas for the adoption of his charge, another check-in with Pedro confirmed my suspicions: I am un-invited. His ex-wife would be there, along with his ex-stepkids, and he said it would just be awkward. This unlikely and complex “family” of his are tight in their own dysfunctional way (the ex threatens to cut off access to the kids if she catches him dating). I’m trying not to be too reactive, but I’m realizing that what he’s saying here is, “I choose mollifying a psycho who’s my unlikely family, over you, who’s been my close friend for 30 years,” due to appearances. It’s just too complicated, he says. (Even though the kid hates the ex and seems to love me.) Anyway, it’s just sad, in every regard. More sense of Pedro’s life in progress, his wacky family set up there, and I just pass through from time to time. Even though I’ve been in his life longer, I don’t figure in in any important way. The truth is, I didn’t really expect it to shape up any differently. And far better to know sooner rather than later. My feelings aren’t inordinately hurt; it’s more a sense of deflation. And further evidence of the whole “his life is in-progress” and mine is not. And I think any upset I feel is more around that fact, that I feel alive when I visit his life, more alive than I feel in my own. Which can not augur anything good.
In last day or so, the thought’s crept in that if I have to live this life on my own, if I’m to be alone (which is a possibility, even if not preferred), I need to live in a place where there’s someplace I can go to commune, and get that certain comforting feeling I get in nature. Clearly, there’s no place here in Philly that feeds that adequately. In San Francisco, I used to climb to the top of a nearby hill, take in the panorama all around me, and get that feeling anytime I wanted. It was wonderful. Could I go back there? It is the perfect place with both land and water. But it might be too crowded, and I tend to believe you can’t go backward in life that way. I love Portland, Maine, and had previously felt I could live there – except they’d have to chopper me out for rehearsals. I do love being near the water, but not like New Jersey-sandbar shoreline – it’s gotta be forest up to the water, or big bluffs, or wild curving coastlines, or somesuch. I’ve also learned I’m drawn to high natural places. And so it has begun to dawn on me that if I’m to be alone in this life, as in, without partner, without children, without even an anchoring career, the very least I can give myself is an environment where I feel less alone, and able to connect outdoors; someplace where I can easily go off alone in nature, and tap into that ineffable feeling that gives me such solace.
Woman on Walkabout 
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