To Move a River

How does one person move a river?  It’s force continuously pushing, crashing along the easiest path to flow down, wearing down obstacles in its way.

Her heart fluttered like a butterfly trying to escape as she eyed up the black, solid door in front of her with an air of determination.  With lips pressed tightly together, she walked into the room where she did not belong and she had no interest in being.  Opening the door, the burst of babbling conversations rose to her ears and her eyes squinted as bright lights cut in sharply.  The view was one you see in documentaries of groups of screeching, chatty colour birds, flying around the group, checking everyone out.  Her greying hair and slow movements were at odds to these excitable young adults.  Scanning the group of people for someone more of kin, she spotted two quiet grey birds who stood raveled up together, but they were obviously paired up.  Continuing her search, she reached the wall covered fully in mirrors.  In the reflection, her eyes were drawn to the tall gentleman tucked in the back.  Well, she thought, at least I won’t be paired with some poor young kid.  Liane had no interest in learning ballroom dancing, and yet, on her Tuesday evening, here she was.

As the instructor concluded the lesson, Liane looked to her partner, pulled a smile on her face and gave him a farewell nod.  

“Have yourself a great evening,” the stranger said in a kind voice. 

 “You as well,” she replied before she slipped on her shoes, grabbed her long coat and purse, and stepped out into the dark street side.  A deep breath billowed crisp air in her lungs, stretching into every corner.  A sense of freedom stretched through her as she allowed her feet to finally carry her home.

Passing below a streetlight, Liane’s phone started to ring loudly with a vintage phone ringtone.  A smile snuck across her face at the noise of a long forgotten device on it’s newer replacement.  Jasper flashed up and the edges of her eyes crinkled as she answered.

“Hi dear.”

“Hey mom!  How was the class?”

“It wasn’t too bad.  Mostly youngins like you actually,” she chuckled.

“Do you think you’ll go back next week?  I tried to book it for a night you were more likely to go,” the plea for a promise seeping through the phone. 

“I’ll think about it Jasper,” she replied, unwilling to commit to more. 

 “Well, I hope you enjoyed it more than the painting or knitting classes.  I should have known better than to try crafty things.”  Liane’s heart twisted in a tight knot, “Your interest is very thoughtful.  How was your exam today?”

Light easy conversation floated along until she washed up at her doorstep.  The pair wished each other a good night, as was part of the nightly ritual phone call.  Liane wasn’t sure if he missed home or if he was more concerned about her being alone.  Placing her coat on the hook that was worn smooth with use, she made her way to her kitchen.  Popping some leftovers in the microwave, the humming sound rose up to invade the quiet house, announcing her presence.  Her eyes roamed around the small room as she waited but stopped as they landed on a picture held up on the fridge.  It was black and white and the edges were curled with a bright yellow magnet.  The woman in the picture did not yet have her grey hair, she hadn’t yet had her son.  Her hair was neatly curled and a line of pearls hugged her neckline.  The woman’s face was split with uncontrollable laughter - the kind where you might comically snort or tears leak out of your eyes.  The man in the picture though, he was very different.  He was much more plain, and his face much more settled.  But the man had a look in his eyes.  The kind of look that floods emotion more than the laugh.  Completely soaked up in the woman, nothing else could penetrate that moment for him.

Liane smiled sadly and said to the picture, “Your son is proving rather determined I should find a hobby.”  Allowing her eyes to trace out his high cheekbones she continued, “First it was a walking group, then painting.  He tried embroidery and knitting.   He has even tried woodworking and cooking classes.”  Her chest grew tight and moisture came up to her eyes at the thought of her boys and their stubborn big hearts.  “And now, if you believe it, he has me”

“BEEP, BEEP, BEEP”

Pursing her lips with a glare at the microwave she said “Quiet you.”

Thinking of where she left off, a grin slowly rose, “He has me ballroom dancing!  That boy is lucky I can’t say no to him.”  She paused, looking off at nothing in particular.  “I know it’s been a year already now, and it’s about time I moved on.”  Tears brimmed the edges of her eyes, threatening to race down her cheeks.  “You made it rather hard on me, you know.  Leaving me here alone just before we were both free.  Free of the daily jobs, free of the schedules.  We were free to explore our dreams and spread our wings.”  Wet tracks traced her face as her eyes climbed their way back up to that photograph.  “We would have soared” she said in barely a whisper.  

“BEEP, BEEP, BEEP”

The noise startling her back to her present need, Liane gave the photograph a sad smile and turned away.  She went through her routine with the ease of thoughtless motion, flowing from one activity to the other.  Supper flowed to some television which flowed to getting changed, and brushed her teeth.  She crawled into her side of the bed, pulled up the thick blankets and flicked out the lights.  

Over the past six months, the days had drifted along, like the water in a river, ever going, effortless.  One day flowing into the other, one activity pushing along to the next.  Liane was comfortable drifting along, letting the current bring her through the familiar motions.  Each of these new classes her son signed her up for was like tossing a big rock into her river of comforting activities.  It messed up the flow a bit but the river water eventually wore down the rock and continued its original flow.  This new class was no different.  A large rock plopped in the middle of her solitude, predictive activities.

***

Today was Saturday and this day did not flow as smoothly as the others did.  It all started with a small intruder.  Almost unnoticeable.  Jasper had planted little seeds of questions that only had answers outside this safe space.  Liane promptly tucked these questions away neatly in a corner of her mind and continued along her day, but as all forbidden things, they tend to wiggle their way back up. 

By the evening, Liane brushed her teeth and pulled up her fuzzy blanket and suddenly found she was alone with her thoughts and unanswered questions.  Creeping in like quiet unwanted spiders, they started to show themselves, soaking into her awareness with a cold discomfort.  

“Mom, what do you want to do with your retirement?”

After one thought tricked down, the path was set for more to follow.  She could hear Jasper’s sweet concerned voice for the first time unwanted in her head.

“I know trying new things is hard,”

“There must be something you’re interested in,”

“Did you and dad have plans, before, you know?”

Building momentum the flow was too much to stop.  Jaspers questions brought up some of her own.

“Are you happy mom?”

“Do you enjoy your days at home alone?”

She had once had plans for retirement, with much activity and travel, but all that had changed.  Liane felt like the same puzzle piece but sitting in front of a different puzzle, not sure how to fit anymore.  Needless to say it is difficult to sleep with invading thoughts brightly illuminating the ignorance you have of your own feelings.  Thoughts challenging her comfortable rhythms brought turbulence and rapids to her comfortable river.

***

Several hazy days floated by as she mulled over her current life.  Liane’s comfortable river had new thoughts challenging it’s borders, stretching it out until it split, some was flowing through the familiar, comfortable route, and a new small stream broke loose, crashing down into new, unfamiliar territory.  

Today was Tuesday.  Today held a decision.  Today she could send water down the typical stream or she could try out this new direction.  Today was week two of ballroom dancing.  All day the question burned on the inside of her skull.  Do I want to sit on my own or am I willing to try to get out there.  As she sat there, the clock ticked loudly, ringing in her ears. 

“Tick, Tick, Tick”

With her heart thumping loudly and breaths coming quickly she contemplated.  Mouth dry, she rose automatically to get a glass and pull out the water jug.  As the fridge door shut, the picture flowed perfectly into her focus.  Liane stood there for several minutes.  Breath caught in her throat, glass still empty, heavy jug tugging on her arm.  To keep the safe and familiar or venture bravely out into the new.   As her eyes traced the picture distractedly, the glass slipped.  The noise made her jump and frigid water spilled over her feet.  Shock from the cold crawling up her body, she made up her mind.  Moving very quickly as if not to let herself consider her decision, she changed her socks and wiped up the water.  Before her intentions sunk in, Liane grabbed her coat, pulled on her shoes, and got her purse.  Quickly replacing the water jug, she shut the fridge and dashed out the door.  The photograph on the fridge still swayed as she went off into the evening.  It’s not easy to move a river, but one trickle of water at a time, it can be done.