After a thousand miles, four 5k’s, three pairs of running shoes, two half
marathons, one unforgettable run with Joan Benoit, I was humbly brought back to
earth during my training for the New York Marathon with a blood clot. While this setback was heartbreaking,
the ensuing news of a blood disorder shook me and I questioned even more
profoundly what it means to be a woman.
As I run, the scenery becomes the backdrop to my thoughts
and worries. The most immediate
concern is always the road and ground directly in front of me, especially with
cars and trucks passing by with little concern for my body and the soul
within. I’m constantly stepping
off the road onto an uneven shoulder consisting of gravel, sand, dirt, rocks,
acorns, and now, snow and ice.
With my eyes focused on the earth for safety, I can’t help but notice
what people discard or loose, that ends up at my footsteps. It’s more than just
the occasional beer can that litters the roadside. It’s a baby’s binky, pink bra, hot dog bun, green vinyl
glove, or plastic toy, that become short-lived short stories for me.
What’s discarded or lost as we travel is interesting to me, especially as I consider
and contemplate what to keep and what to jettison as I grow into becoming a
woman. What I once thought was
completely necessary; might not be an option anymore because of my blood
disorder. I had spent years harming myself, both emotionally and physically,
scared and afraid to admit whom I was, but also frustrated with the body I
had. Breasts, estrogen, a prettier
face, and GRS (below the belt stuff), are no longer a certainty, but does all
this really matter and will I still feel like a woman without them?
Christmas Eve day started early with a 4:30am drive to the airport to drop off
a friend, followed by a pleasant six mile run in the low December sun. I worked most of the day at the art
gallery. It was a ghost town, and
the only two visitors were not shoppers.
I had no plans for the evening and fortunately a friend visiting home
for Christmas didn’t either. We ended up going out to dinner and returned to my
house to finish our making cards with music, cocktails, and a fire.
As I was gathering firewood, I noticed to my surprise, a squirrel in the trap. It’s large brown eyes looked hopefully back
at me. The squirrel had recently
moved into the wood pile, and I was worried it would eventually find it’s way
into the walls or attic, so I set a “have a heart” trap, never thinking it
would work. I brought the wood in
and lit the fire as my friend sang along to happy music. After putting on my winter coat again,
I grabbed my keys and was off to relocate the rodent. With the trap and squirrel stowed in my trunk, I drove down
the road, crossed a river and turned down a dirt road into the woods. Near the end of the road, nearly two
miles from the woodpile, I parked and took the trap out of the trunk and
released the furry creature into the cold dark night, wishing it luck. This certainly wasn’t an episode of the
Sapranos, but it had an eerie felling about it.
Back in the warmth of my living room, we sat at the kitchen
table, talking about boys, girls, and everyone in between. Suddenly the doorbell rang. That’s strange, while I have a few
neighbors, it seems like I live in the middle of nowhere. I wonder if the music was too
loud. As I went to the door I
noticed two women standing in the dark on my doorstep. As I flicked on the light and opened
the front door, I was greeted with two warm smiles and a joyous Merry
Christmas! It was a former student
and her mom. They live about a
mile down the road, so I guess they’re neighbors. The student and her older sister have always greeted me
warmly in passing. Her mother handed me a warm dessert with
the holiday greeting, and urged her daughter to say something to me. She shared with me how much it meant to
her to see me at school last year, smiling, saying hi to students, as I was
transitioning, but also how much the school has lost such since I was laid off.
This was certainly a welcome Christmas message. With warm tears sneaking out of the corner of my eyes, I
gave her a hug and thanked her and her mom for thinking of me. Just a few hours
ago, I was planning on spending Christmas Eve alone, and now I couldn’t imagine
a better evening. My friend heard
the conversation and smiled as I returned to the living room. The night ended
shortly later, and as his ride waited in the driveway, we danced to Kylie
Minogue in front of the fire, before kissing goodnight.
While I was alone on Christmas morning, I was better prepared this year, and
after the night before, my heart was still full. As I pulled back the curtains
in my bedroom, I was greeted to a white Christmas. The yard and woods look good in snow I thought, and sipped my
coffee looking out my front window standing next to the Charlie Brown-like
Christmas tree. As I listened to a
Pandora Christmas station, I opened a few presents I had purchased for myself
and wondered if this was pathetic or not.
Don’t worry, they weren’t wrapped.
With the desire to bake something as a thank you to my
neighbor’s warm greetings, and wanting to bring something to my friends for
dinner, I decided to make ginger bread.
I also was asked to bring an appetizer, so I made stuffed mushrooms. That was a first. I did over cook them, as I lost track of
time getting dressed, but they were enjoyed anyway. On the way to dinner, I stopped at my neighbors to return
their dish and the favor. The two
sisters and their mom, all in pajamas, again wished me Merry Christmas, and
thanked me for the returned treat.
The night sky was full of snowflakes and the roads were slippery. Dinner at my friends was simple and
pleasant; it was just her and her eighty-year old mother. While they’re Jewish, we were still
were having a special meal, and it felt good to be included. I shared my stories about the visitors
from the night before and the adventures with the squirrel. My friend’s mother warned me, that
despite my good intentions, the rodent would return. The ride home was slow with several new inches of
powder on the roads. I left the
mess in the kitchen for the next day and went to bed watching the movie The Fifth Element.
As awoke, I began writing in my journal. There’s a quote I love from the movie, and I thought about
it as I feel asleep, “Time not important, only life important.” What’s important to me
now, I considered in my journal, but I wasn’t finding a clear picture or path. I wrote a list of words, but I have to admit I was still confused,
but not without hope. I’m am
unsure what makes me a woman, other than that’s how I feel and being one makes
me happier than I could ever imagine.
I was thinking too much, so I stopped writing and went out to the messy
kitchen to refill my coffee. The
sky was getting brighter and I could see the woods covered in snow. I noticed a
path of little paw prints from the woodpile, across the deck to the bird feeder
by the window and back again.
I guess my friend’s mom was right, something’s do come back to you.
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