We all have paths.
Path of Dreams.
We choose them and we either stay on them, or we waver and chose another. Some may have many paths, maybe leading to one place. They can be filled with strife or joy, light or darkness, but ultimately we hope they lead to dreams come true.
I have been on one path for 30 years, that has never wavered, a dream path. Soon I will reach the end of that byway, and the stop has many forks. I cant see the forks yet, but I know they are there. Which way they lead me is a 30 year old question that maybe time will answer, and maybe not. Maybe there is no pat answer, and I will just have to pick an avenue to travel down. If it takes me to a fulfilled dream, it was the right choice. How many paths, roads, streets, highways have you moved down to get to the place you are today?
I have been down a lot of roads. Some were straight and narrow, with nothing on them and others were filled with distractions and side streets. Some were well lit, safe and fun, joyous and led to great things happening in my life. Then there were the dark, scary, dangerous passages that I followed, in grief and anger, self destruction and lack of ability to forgive. Its been my perception that the truest path we can follow is one of compassion, forgiveness, and forward motion.
Forever Forward.
I try to live that. If its not taking me forward, it’s holding me back.
August 9th is a super huge day in my life.
The biggest day I will ever live.
I get to meet my daughter.
Since she has contacted me, I have done a lot of soul searching, and self reflection. What I wanted to BE for her, when we met was this vision of a person who is not really me. Its another perception of the person others wanted me to be, that I have spent many years failing to become. Professional, successful, well off, able to live independently of others. Those were the dreams of my parents for me, and sort of mine as well, with a different perspective.
I am an artist.
Thats my dream job.
I always have been. Yet I have never published a work, shown a piece, or even produced anything anyone would want unless it was a gift. I have made gifts of my art, and seen it in the goodwill box. So, I don’t do that any more. Art, as an expression of compassion and grace, beauty and light, is not a disposable commodity, to me. So, I keep it to myself, and don’t share it a lot, unless its among those with an appreciation. My art is my heart on a canvas, in a photo, on a page with words. Its my vision of what I want my life to look like. To be. Its the beauty in my heart, through my eyes, in a photo or a canvas, its the clearest representation of me.
And now, with the advent of August 9th on the horizon, soul searching, and all the rest, I am trying to decide what I will look like to my daughter? What will she see? Will she see me the artist, or the me who is person on another path to nowhere? What will she take away from our shared experience of meeting? Will she see me as the wanderer I have been most of my life? Will she notice the lack of ties, no home, no real place thats my space? Will she know that my heart has been adrift for the 30 years she has been missing from my life? I don’t want her to think that my life is a result of anything thats not been my own choice. She was the best thing I ever did, had and loved. That choice was the most concrete, the most beloved decision I have made in my entire life. She has never been a mistake, not loved or wanted, or hidden. Everyone who knows me, knows about her, Every person in my life knew about her before me. I was not alone, I was a part of a much bigger, as yet unpainted canvas.
What will I see?
I know one thing I will see. I will see a successful young woman, a college graduate, with passions and convictions. I will see, maybe, some of what I missed watching her grow up, in her children. I will have a shift in what and who I am. I will no longer be ISO, and will be among the “Founds”. I have held many identities, multiply layered identities, and now one will change, to one I can finally get off my bucket list.
Found.
Reunited.
Met my daughter!
It will become past tense, after August 9th.
I have no control over how she sees me, see will be seeing me for the first time, again. But with a clearer vision. No longer the vision of an infant, but the eyesight of a grown person, who has lived for 30 years, has a history, children, a boy friend, has traveled, has a family, and friends, and lives in her own space.
I, will still be me.
I will still have the struggles ahead of me that I created in my life. But I will also have the joy of knowing my child is safe, happy, well adjusted, ready to live her life and enjoy it.
I have much to be grateful for and…
I am.
August 9th, That canvas gets another coat of paint, and maybe it will be complete some day soon.
All Over the Map 