Went shopping this weekend and looked in a mirror. I hardly recognized the person looking back. I sat down - with an armload of clothes in my hands, and just stared. Who is she? and where did I go? And why didn't turning 40 have all the answers I thought it was going to have.

As I wondered who I am - I also wondered where I'm going - I thought by now I would have moved forward with my life. But I feel like I'm just standing still or treading water. Even x in all of his tumultousness has moved on- in a bad marriage but moved on just the same.

I hate feeling in limbo like this. I am meeting some major goals in my life. Almost finished with my masters. Lost XX amount of weight. I'm in between sizes and just in between everything it seems. I need some direction. Hoping for some hope - gotta build back up my faith. Looking in the mirror - sometimes we don't like what we see - but it's there so we can modify that reflection.

Thankful

“Not everything that can be counted counts, and not everything that counts can be counted.”

-- Albert Einstein

Cliff Island Blues

When that plane touches down on the ground in Nashville
you'll hear it on the news.
Come 9:05 tomorrow night
we'll have the Cliff Island Blues.

There's a big difference sitting at the Power Point
and your feet can't find your shoes.
Come Monday morning when I put on my heels for work,
then I'll have the Cliff Island Blues.

Gourmet meals flavored with garlic
and the dishwashing cleaning crews,
Beats a Happy Meal eaten at my desk anyday.
It's enough to give me the Cliff Island Blues.

The island transport, feeling the breeze off the ferry
and hearing the seagulls mews
Beats rush hour traffic, a $5.00 gallon of gas
MAN, I've got the Cliff Island Blues.

When the airliner crosses over that Mason Dixon line,
we'll have a bit of a clue.
Toto, we ain't close to Portland no mo'
We've officially got the Cliff Island Blues.

Redemption

Five years ago I looked out across Casco Bay to the mainland we left behind. We were alone on an island in the middle of the Atlantic. My little one was only 5 years old. I was broken from the end of my marriage and it’s aftermath that was as rocky as the shores we walked upon each day. The shell shock had started to wear off but barely. Recently I found a photo from that trip and if it looked as if we were holding on to each other for dear life – it’s because we were.

That week we watched sunsets, enjoyed the company of loving and supportive friends and started to make our way in the world again. It had been a long and lonely winter.

Five years forward, I find myself looking out across Casco Bay again – this time on a different island, some friends the same with new ones picked up along the way and the shores are even rockier. But this time out I can navigate them. Bravely climb on them and welcoming whatever the rising tide brings to us. I’m 40 now (for one more day) and my beautiful girl is 9. We have both grown tremendously both in body, heart and soul.

So it’s fitting that we return here in the safety of treasured friends, to the beauty of a place that accepts me and lets me be anyway I need to be.

Turning 40 was more than a major milestone in my life this last year – I have used the year as a talisman of what direction my life would turn towards to navigate the rest of my days. It has been a lovely year. A year of destinations, music, continuing support of family and friends – both new and old and the constant connection and reconnection and the gifts they all continue to bestow on me. I am so blessed in my life. It’s also been a year of trying new things – I learned how to knit (!!), meeting goals and exceeding the hard expectations I have set for myself. And finally, not being so hard on myself as a parent going alone. I can do it – it has been done by so many before me and as long as we communicate and back each other up – we can do anything.

Most importantly, I have learned that it’s okay to let go and love again. The hardest lesson about love this time around is opening yourself up to even allowing someone to love you back and not second guessing and chasing away all those old ghosts that want to hang around.

Last night I sat on the porch alone and I listened to the waves hitting the rocks, felt the breeze giving me a chill, watched the beacon cycle from a distant lighthouse and had the entire evening sky ablaze with stars shining directly over my head. I didn’t feel alone – I felt redeemed – I feel like my life has come full circle.

Along the Road

Halloween Night 2003. Murray Lane, Brentwood, Tennessee. The last time I ever heard my father's voice. Every time I drive on that part of the road where I remembered talking to him - especially if it's dark like it was that night - I get this tiny ache for him.

My little one and I were on the way home from trick or treating with friends and we were discussing via phone call with him our upcoming visit to the mountains with my college roommates. On our return home to the mid-state we were going to stop and spend the day with him in Knoxville. He talked to KK too and he always had this glee in his voice when he talked about her or to her. He would lose it and get so tickled when I told him about her escapades and the latest and greatest accomplishment she had mastered.

I always liked to think that he had once felt that way about me. I had spent my lifetime trying to get his attention and get him to notice me or do something with me. When KK was born I stopped chasing him - I could feel his love just by the happiness he showed by her being in his life. The way he would light up when he held her gave me all the daddy I needed. I had finally done something that he was proud of. I didn't have to chase him anymore.

Had I known that it was the last time I would ever speak to him - would I have said anything different - told him how much I loved him and how sorry I was for the emotional distance we had between us for so long? I can honestly say now that all of those years I thought it was his fault alone - but now I can say that it was my fault also.

We were having breakfast when I got the phone call from my mother. After I hung up the phone I quickly sat down and turned my face away from my friends to absorb the blow - I was in shock - I could not cry. Any lingering anger or disappointment that I was carrying around with me towards him quickly dissipated and left my body. I can't explain it any other way - the animosity and unspoken words (words that I would never have been able to say to him anyway) I felt died that day with him and freed me from carrying it around with me any longer. At least on that Saturday night, he may have been happy knowing he was going to see KK the next day. I have to hope that.

That night while waiting on my sisters to arrive the next day - my girlfriends built a bonfire in the fire pit. Not only was it extremely cathartic but it enabled me to have a quiet place to grieve alone away from everyone. I was able to send up some silent goodbyes to my father with a final admonition for God to forever take care of him. I will never forget or be able to convey the gratitude for the gift of friendship that my friends gave me that night.

I won't say that the next three days were the saddest of my life but this occurred during the saddest period I have ever experienced in my life. With Father's Day being right around the corner, those poignant reminders are everywhere. Not only this national day to celebrate the bonds of fatherhood, but his birthday follows closely on it's heels the week after. Always on the perimeter, but this time of year is just a two week time period in June when he is constantly at the forefront of my mind.

And my weekly drive across Murray Lane, the ache is still fresh and feels the same. The memory of that last phone call with him is always there waiting for me. No more chasing.

Love Your Path--Paulo Coelho

1. The path begins at a crossroads. There you can stop and think what direction you want to take. But don’t spend too much time thinking or you’ll never leave the spot. Ask yourself the classic Carlos Castaneda question: Which of these paths has a heart? (…)

2. The path doesn’t last forever. It’s a blessing to travel the path for some time, but one day it will come to an end, so be prepared to take leave of it at any moment. (…)

3. Honor your path. It was your choice, your decision, and just as you respect the ground you step on, that ground will respect your feet. Always do what’s best to conserve and keep your path and it will do the same for you.

4. Be well-equipped. Carry a small rake, a spade, a penknife. Understand that penknives are no use for dry leaves, and rakes are useless for herbs that are deep-rooted. Know what tool to use at each moment. And take care of your tools, because they’re your best allies.

5. The path goes forward and backward. At times you have to go back because something was lost, or a message to be delivered was forgotten in your pocket. A well tended path enables you to go back without any great problem.

6. Take care of the path before you take care of what’s around you. Attention and concentration are fundamental. Don’t be distracted by the dry leaves at the edges. Use your energy to tend and conserve the ground that accepts your steps.

7. Be patient. Sometimes the same tasks have to be repeated, like tearing up weeds or closing holes that appear after unexpected rain. Don’t let that annoy you; it’s part of the journey. Even though you’re tired, even though certain tasks are repeated so often, be patient.

8. Paths cross. People can tell you what the weather is like elsewhere. Listen to advice, but make your own decisions. You’re responsible for the path entrusted to you.

9. Nature follows its own rules. You have to be prepared for sudden changes in the fall, slippery ice in winter, the temptations of flowers in spring, thirst and showers in the summer. Make the most of each of these seasons, and don’t complain about their characteristics.

10. Make your path a mirror of yourself. By no means let yourself be influenced by the way others care for their paths. You have your own soul to listen to, and the birds to whisper translations of what your soul is saying. (…)

11. Love your path. Without this, nothing makes any sense.

Finding Girl Power at the T-Ball Field

Three years ago when my daughter expressed the interest to play T-Ball, we approached it like we do anything else: sign up, buy the proper equipment (in this case pink gloves, pink batting helmets and pink "Girl Power" bats) and show up at the appointed time for practice.

I'll never forget how excited she was to be a part of a team. At the same time it was a new venture for us out in the world of our little community full of perfect families, 2.5 kids, perfunctory Yellow Lab and a fleet of SUVs in the driveway.

As we walked to the field, I began assessing the situation. There was a group of rail thin Stepford Moms huddled in deep discussion on the bleachers and another mom dressed in work clothes in the dugout. I headed straight for the dugout and took my place on the bench. The other mom and I introduced ourselves pointed our girls and began to watch practice. Soon we began trading personal statistics. Yes, it's our only child. School info, where do you work, what do you do? And then I sheepishly mumbled something about being divorced. She said "I am too" in such an off-handed way like it was nothing to be ashamed of and I remember sitting up and thinking maybe this was not going to be so hard after all. I instantly dropped the feeling that "I am the only one" in this situation. I wasn't.

In fact, meeting her totally turned my life around. I was instantly impressed with her. She was straightforward, fun to talk to, beautiful and self-assured. Her bravada and self-confidence was something I soon began trying on for myself again.

A few games and shared bags of popcorn later (and crush on the drop dead gorgeous with perfect abs t-ball coach) - it was official. I had a new friend. Which was to me the greatest gift at this point in my life.

What started out as emails with logistics about the night's game quickly evolved into back and forth one-liners about life and sharing the fruits of our goggle-stalking efforts on said coach.

When X came to one of the games and was acting in a threatening manner, my older sister sat on one side of me and my new friend sat on the other side to protect me. They quietly said things under their breath to me and each other in response to things he would say to me and it got me through what was an uncomfortable hour. I will never forget that day either. Her simple gesture provided me with a different kind of "Girl Power" and I don't think she even had a clue.

I guess he didn't make a good impression on her, because in the months to come she was my only friend who gently quit the hand holding and bluntly told me I needed to get over him and get on with my life. She was right. She was not there during the early days of my separation when I was crushed, scared and hurt. And I'm glad she didn't see me that way. My other friends I think were afraid I was too fragile to have that talk with me. But not her. I don't think I'll ever be able to express the gratitude I feel that she had the grace and fortitude to do it. I know it wasn't a big deal to her either - but her "get over it" speech or email more like was extremely eye-opening for me.

One Christmas we could share the tiny sadness we felt putting out presents on Christmas Eve by ourselves. Last Christmas we could acknowledge that it wasn't as bad as the year before. Not many people could understand exactly how that feels. But she does. She's my one friend I can measure my single parent status by without feeling totally insecure.

Three years later, our daughter's no longer play in the same league. But Tiffany and I do. We now share vacations together, trade books to read, and numerous daily emails (she even taught me how to text). She has even pulled me into her circle of friends as a push from behind to get me "out there" again.

Signing up for t-ball season was a turning point in our new lives. I know that sounds so silly to say - I mean who knows if it means a life-long love of sports for my daughter or not. But it provided me with a new best friend and confidante. Lucky, lucky me.