May 31st, 2012

The Memorials

memorials

Dear friends:

Yes, I’m still sad. Yes, Memorial Day weekend was supposed to be about forces bigger than me and the sacrifices made. And yes, I think about those things. But I also think about the moment I find myself stuck in. It seems, dear friends, that I’m having trouble letting go and moving on. Much of that has to do with the loss of my little Miu Miu, but I’m also struggling with my departure from wonderland in general.

I’ve made a new home for myself with giant white walls and blank canvases. However, much to my dismay, the movers delivered roughly 100 boxes of memories. I’m literally wearing my memories all over my body. The shiny objects that used to distract and delight are now reminders of a life I’ve left behind.

shiny_distractions

As I try to make it through unpacking each box, I’m overwhelmed by my inability to say goodbye.

I thought this would be easier. I clicked my sparkly red heels, I defeated the Queen, I drank the potion. But it didn’t work. Sometimes fairytales aren’t that simple. Sometimes the superheroes have to do a little bit of grunt work. Even Clark Kent had to find a phone booth and do an ordinary costume change. So, perhaps the only way for this Alice to get out of her hole is to climb out the old-fashioned way, step by disarming step.

So, Nashville, I know you like when I write you love letters. And I do love you. You were there for the journey. You even witnessed my Felicity moment (the one where I cut off all my hair, not where I traveled back in time due to an extended season, although these days I wonder if I wouldn’t welcome that). Yes, we’ve shared a lot, and yes, I’ve dropped many a token of affection your way. But I need to let you go. I need to sing my own song.

Truth: I am not ready to let go. I am not ready to break my time in wonderland into pieces and spice them into this next chapter of my life. But the damage has already been done. The new chapter is already writing itself. I can either hide in this rabbit hole, or I can pick up a pen. A slow, unsteady, deliberate, calculated, luminous pen.

Posted at 5:03 pm by rachel in: After Wonderland

2 Comments

2 Comments

  1. Lisa Rollins

    Please keep in touch, some of us aren’t ready for you to leave us behind. But if you do, we know you will always have the Year of the Rabbit coin we gave you. May it always serve as a reminder of that “old” couple that loved your store and your friendship very much.

  2. rachel

    Well, I’m most definitely not ready to let go of you & Bud (not that I ever will be). How about I leave the experience behind but keep you two close? In fact, I was literally talking about you a couple days ago. And if the memories ever start to fade, I’ll clutch that coin and be instantly transported to those magical Saturday afternoons. xoxo

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