Papa was a rollin’ stone
I recently spent 3 weeks at an air b&b on a 75 acre berry farm in upstate New York with my daughter and grandson.
It was the best vacation I have ever had and when we had to leave for home, I literally cried tears of sadness. I have steadily yearned for the finger lakes since we left and when we did, part of my heart stayed there.
The waterfall hikes almost physically killed me, and my 35 year old daughter showed me NO mercy.
There were times when I didn’t think I could climb another stone step or pull myself up another rocky path with the tree roots that grew from the ground.
But each excruciating step brought me closer to the absolute beauty of nature. I pushed my body hard, and it has taken me 2 weeks to really recover…but I would do it all over again tomorrow.
The rolling hills, the immense waterfalls and forests, the lakes with all of their wondrous treasures washed up on the shore, I loved it all.
I truly feel privileged having seen such beauty.
Waking up early and driving ten minutes to Cayuga lake to watch the sunrise alone, by myself, made me appreciate everything I have been blessed with. It was a feeling of peace that I struggle to describe but it made me feel strong and capable and proud of everything I have weathered and with as much dignity as I was able to hold on to.
It felt like the ultimate reward for having hurt for so long, and still, there are moments of sadness for the love I lost, for the choices he made.
Sometimes the truth creeps in and I am reminded that he chose not to love me anymore and apparently, that was the right choice for him, as evidenced by the fact that they have remained together. Their love must be strong and I am no longer a threat in her mind.
Somehow, none of that touched me when I was alone beside those giant natural landmarks. Somehow, none of the past ugliness penetrated the scar tissue surrounding my hopeful soul.
I don’t know what she set out to do on that winter evening all those years ago when she called me, but I think she wanted to break me so she felt better about herself.
I think she wanted to break me, to ensure I wouldn’t fight back. I don’t know why she couldn’t just leave me out of it, because she already had him for herself by then and he had no interest in me anymore. But I guess that wasn’t enough.
It must be enough now. Because my phone has been strangely silent.
I wish her peace.
As for me, I went to Cayuga Lake after a violent storm one morning while we were there on vacation and while my daughter was still sleeping. I walked past a strange looking stone item on the shoreline three times before I decided to bend over and pick it up.
What I found was an early tool constructed and used by the Cayuga Nation Indian tribe long before my grandfather’s grandfather was so much as a thought in anyone’s mind.
It is an abrasion stone, carved and used to sharpen the knapp on knives and fishhooks and the like. I could FEEL its history and story as I held it in my hand, and I knew it was not just a rock tossed about by the waves and delivered at my feet.
It will be put on display in a museum in that area, because as soon as I picked it up, it belonged to the native community in that region.
Soon, it’s going home.
Just like I had to after I put it in my beach glass bag.
Some of the experts that looked at it commented on the fact that they don’t know how it came to land intact, and not in pieces.
I know what it feels like to be tossed around and pulled under the waves. I know what it feels like to thrash around with no clear direction and I know what it feels like to try to hold myself together long enough to survive another storm.
We have a lot in common, the abrasion stone and I.
We both made it to shore unbroken.
Both of us are smooth, softened around the edges. Eventually we both made it above water to feel the sun again.
It is proof that if you find yourself tumbling and you fight hard enough to make it to shore, your significance and importance becomes clear. If you can survive the tumultuous journey…
You will find your way home.