Apple Blossoms and Wind Chimes
I saw a shrink today: memories and flashbacks are killing me dead. He pressed for specific instances: sights, sounds, smells, that bring on these debilitating flashbacks. He wanted specifics so I dug deep and brought them out: Last spring, a morning spent filming and photographing the apple blossoms on our beautiful tree next to the back porch. It's a warm spring day. The dogs are stretched out soaking up the sun, birds are singing, and the apple blossoms are dancing in a light, fresh breeze. Our acre of lawn has been freshly mown in neat diagonal strips--I cut it myself just the day before--and the scent of cut grass has mingled with baby honeysuckle growing on the porch. It's delightfully peaceful; I am in heaven.
Today the window from my room faces a concrete driveway, right next to another concrete driveway. Squeezed between the two is a small apple tree that my mom planted a few years ago. Last month she had the thing pruned and the branches tied in a bundle. Alas, two days ago the decapitated blooms stubbornly opened up in their dead pile. Apple blossoms. Back yard. Sunny lawn. Home. The little blooms flashed the sweet, tender, and dreadfully cruel picture of my day filming... and another cold, dark wave crashed down yet again. I marched out and stuffed the offending branches into a refuse can where they could no longer taunt my war-torn brain. Closed the lid tight on the little blossoms; God's beauty, refusing to die, showing His faithfulness, stuffed in a trash can. I did that.
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It is Saturday in April. We've just picked up my brand new engagement ring, and now are driving up to the San Juan Islands for the day. Following a walk around Friday Harbor we sit down to lunch in a delightful cafe; Jack Johnson is singing in the background. We're talking, laughing, holding hands. We visit some gift shops, and Rob surprises me with a beautiful wind chime. This gift I will cherish forever, and though I don't know it at the time, the wind chime will hang from the front porch of my next five homes.
Today I hear wind chimes singing in the wind outside my bedroom window. Their music is beautiful; as much as I like wind chimes I should be enthralled with them. Instead, their song makes me sad, puts me in a funk; takes me back to the day with Rob at Friday Harbor. Another wave crashes down. So much sadness.
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With my sadness this time, however, comes a delightful treat: With the doc's gentle counsel I've come to realize that my bouts of blues, depression, memories, sadness, homesickness, waves--seem to be focused on things surrounding Rob, rather than on Rob himself! I felt truly empowered by this revelation. Another step towards success in overcoming this horrendous chapter in my life. Freedom is not too far off.
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