My goal was to leave the house this morning by 9:00. We were pulling out of the driveway at 8:56! The 4 1/2 drive took us 4 1/2 hours and it included a stop for gas and coffee in Newington followed up with a pit and snack stop at the rest area on the Mass Pike and stop-and-go traffic outside of Hartford and then Stamford. I was just going with the flow of traffic -- although if you were to ask Mom or Grammy Bev, they would say that I come by my lead foot honestly. Right, ladies?
Selim fell asleep in Hartford and with the ensuing silence from the back seat and passing the familiar left exit to Route 9 south of the city, my mind wandered to 1998 when I lived at the coast in Clinton and Old Saybrook. For two years I made the regular drive between Clinton and the Capital city for work, monitoring the legislation that involved water usage.
I never really wanted to live in that state. But I had finished graduate school and didn't really have a job. Plus the ex-boyfriend had said to me when I was breaking it off, "Don't leave me. I have a gun." Not sure whether that was a threat or a plea, I left his apartment and called the police. When he continued to follow me as I went to the gym or run errands, or park his car sideways across the road when I drove home, I got scared. When he threatened to kill himself and was taken to the State hospital for observation (putting me down as his emergency contact), I freaked out. Luckily, Jake stepped in and offered me her grandparents' beach house in Clinton for the fall and winter. She was moving in as well and it would be like old times. It was a refuge and exile both. I felt safe as nothing was in my name, no utility, phone service...nothing. I could start fresh and not look over my shoulder. The price to pay was leaving my family, the comfort of my supportive community, the Ashram and my regular life.
There were aspects of life that I loved. For the first seven months at the beach house, I went to sleep every night to the sound of the waves hitting the sand and sea wall. I got to stick my feet in the water any day that I wanted. I reconnected with Jake, nine years after we graduated from college together, we were roommates again. I found work that was challenging and mostly enjoyable. Later I rented a garage apartment in Old Saybrook that was as charming as it was small. I took golf lessons so that I could learn the sport that my dad enjoyed, with the intent that we could play together when we could. I started my first garden. I made a few new friends.
After two years, the job that I once loved started to make me ill. I was so unhappy that I would leave the office in the evening and throw up when I got back home; literally purging my day and giving myself a fresh start at night. I felt alone and in exile. Pissed that some guy had made me too scared to stand my ground. If anybody asked, I would insist that he didn't run me off -- but he did. So when Ivan offered me a chance to interview for a position back in NH, I jumped at the chance to come back home, to the familiar, to my family and support. Two years to the day, I moved back.
I haven't been back or driven through too many times since. I'm not sure when we stopped going to NY the day after Christmas for family gathering...but it was shortly there after. I made it to New Haven for some important events for my brother -- the first sermon he preached, MDiv graduation and wedding. There might have been other occasions, but I'm drawing a blank. Not so many as to make the signs and landmarks routine and therefore not thought / reminiscing provoking.
And now I'm sitting on the couch with my sister. She lives 4 1/2 driving (not flying) hours away! We are together. She is working on a writing assignment and I'm deciding if I am going to take a quick nap. Selim and cousin Cabin Boy are with Stan and the neighbor at Chuck E Cheese for a birthday outing. Mr. Y is curled up at my hip, shedding black fur, drooling and happy to be pet by his auntie. Life is good.
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