It is my last day in America. Sarah and I have spent the day together, sorting through stuff, packing up stuff, throwing out stuff. We have been kind and considerate and working together as we should always have worked together. It's a strange day. Funny with crying.
I woke up unable to process the idea that I am leaving tomorrow. Just like the first moments of this crash, I concentrated on what needed to be done and couldn't bring myself to think about what might have been. I set about this blog with the intention of documenting a period in my life which I was treating like an adventure with a finite goal -- to live in Slovenia and learn to paraglide. That goal, while somewhat obscure, helps me to compartmentalize this trip. I can't see it as losing Sarah, I have to see it as fulfilling a lifelong ambition to master a skill. Now that I'm on the verge of leaving I've ramped that up and gone even further into an imaginary world of self-protection. I decided, some five minutes after opening my eyes, that I would try skiing. One can tell that the brain is trying to protect itself when learning to ski at the age of 54 seems like a good idea. I'm sure a therapist would underline the word 'skiing' as soon as I mentioned it, and would know what it represents. I am shrinking away from harm into the snowy bosom of a winter wonderland, clutching at anything that makes tomorrow's event an adventure rather than the futile sadness that reality presents. After tomorrow I won't see Sarah again, and I want to. I love her. We watch tv together and laugh at things. We argue too. Lets not forget that. We are at odds much of the time. I don't fit into the world that works for her, and I complained endlessly, wanted to change everything, had unrealistic expectations. Instead of changing the way things were, I simply complained, and finally she needed something else. I needed something else. This is the something else. I hope that in a year we will be happier people and maybe wiser too. I hope those two people meet up in a year's time and think about staying together in the happy winter wonderland, where 54 year old men take up skiing and fly through the mountains as if that were a normal thing to do. I hope she comes to see a man she'd like to be with. But today has been all about packing things into boxes to ship, or bags to carry. We have laughed, we went out to eat, we spent the day together and when we stopped laughing, one of us would cry, silently, then move on. We are now going to watch some TV for the last time. We like My Name is Earl. It's about a man who changes his ways, and the world becomes a better place. [ps...Have you tried the Armchair Detective Challenge yet?]
5 Comments
Diane Lefer
24/11/2013 11:02:17
Pete, this brings me to tears, too. I'm glad I did get to meet you and appreciate your ideas, your drawings, your fiction--such immense creativity. I hope we all get to see you again and in the meantime, wish you all the best luck and happiness. But don't risk yourself skiing! Don't add broken bones to broken heart! You matter too much to too many! The world is a better place with a healthy Peter Lamb in it!
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pjl
30/11/2013 05:05:10
Never fear Diane, if I try skiing it's going to be on perfectly level ground -- that will be my version of creative skiing, a kind of post-modern abstract skiing style which involves remaining perfectly still. And if something breaks well, as you know, everything can be used as writing experience. Maybe I'll get some health insurance first though...
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Joe Bliss
24/11/2013 20:30:12
Pete,
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pjl
30/11/2013 05:07:44
Joe, so good to see your words appearing. Today is my first attempt at replying to comments so I hope you see that I've replied. I am becoming more positive as the days go by. It's a beautiful place with lovely people. Come visit. It's nothing like Shortridge.
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Cassandra
26/11/2013 15:11:55
Peter, I'm moved by your words and by the change you're making. Such courage. But I also second the sentiments of the gentlewoman above that no broken bones should be part of your skiing or paragliding as you learn mastery over these sports. After all, we three writers here want to visit an intact Peter one day soon. Hope this finds you safe with your brother and his wife, in a place that already feels a little familiar with every step. Write again (here) soon, Sir P.
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