peace at last

Last night, I ran into someone from my past. My connection to this woman is actually through her son, with whom I spent a fair amount of time during my last two years of high school. It has probably been seven or eight years since I last saw her. It took a minute, but when she recognized me, I was greeted by a huge hug, followed by the barrage of six million questions in about thirty seconds: Howareyou?wherehaveyoubeen?whathaveyoubeendoing?

Six years ago, this week, I left Ohio newly married. Twenty seven months ago, this week, I returned, newly divorced. In between, I lived in two states, had three jobs, took 15 hours worth of graduate courses, was fully initiated into the Catholic Church, met new people, made new friends, lost track of others. With all the life changes, I changed. I grew up, matured, lived life, got hurt, healed, forgave, walked away, realized fears and dreams, let go of old beliefs...

I've spent the last twenty seven months trying to figure out how to be the "new" me on "old" turf. I struggled, at times, to navigate between people who knew me "before," and those who met me "after." I couldn't quite figure out how the pieces of my life, so different and so important, fit together now. As a result, my typical reaction to the bombarding questions was to be vague.

I'm fine. Yes, I'm back from Florida. No, I'm not teaching. It has been a long time.

But last night -- for the first time -- as the questions rained down upon me, I didn't feel the need to avoid them. In fact, if we hadn't been standing in the middle of 50+ toddlers, all clean and shiny for a baby beauty contest, I probably would have said, "Grab a drink, and pull up a chair. Have I got some tales to tell you."