Peace Lily

After paying for her Peace lily and walking it out to her car, Emily placed both hands on the wheel and let out a giant sigh. She had made it.

She had driven more than 1,800 miles over the course of three days. She was exhausted, but those three days had been nothing compared to the months she had spent in a tumultuous relationship, and the years she had spent battling alcoholism. Only two weeks prior had Emily decided that her life was worth something more. She would head out west. She had never considered it before, but that was where chance had chosen and that was where she would go. A place to start fresh, away from the chaos that had become her life.

Her new home was only a few blocks from the plant nursery where she had bought her new lily. She parked her car and rode the elevator up to her place; a 300 square foot studio in an old building with exposed pipes and ancient-looking appliances. It wouldn’t look like much to some, but to Emily, it was home. It was a place of her own, far from the city that had left her with emotional wounds.

She sat on the floor in the middle of the small space, surrounded only by a few bags of clothes, a box of dishes, bathroom essentials, and her new plant. As the soft sunlight came through the west facing window, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She thought about the humiliating things she had said and done when she was drunk; how those people would probably never talk to her again and how, even if they would, she would be too ashamed to look them in the eyes. She thought about the nights she had gone home after work (and several drinks) to a messy space and an angry boyfriend. Those nights never went well. He didn’t like when she drank to the point of oblivion and she thought he was controlling and overreactive. Through this disagreement, they both resolved to drink more. This solution only aggravated their problems.  He was becoming reckless and physically unwell and she was losing sight of that woman she had once seen herself becoming. She was losing jobs left and right, damaging her reputation, and diminishing her self-worth. Emily was unhappy with the woman she had become. In fact, it was during one of those drunken nights and toxic arguments that Emily stumbled and knocked over her entryway table, spilling the contents of her purse. She noticed a dart in the midst of the clutter, remembering she had accidentally pocketed it from her regular bar down the street. She grabbed it with intent and marched into the kitchen where there hung a map of the world. Closing one eye so she could focus for a moment, she launched the dart and watched it land on Denver, Colorado. Without any consideration, Emily knew in that moment that she had a plan. She sat on the couch and dozed off into a hazy slumber.

The next morning, something in her had changed. Memories from the rest of the night were foggy, but the memory of deciding she would move to Colorado was clear as day. Something about it just felt right. Maybe just the act of making a decision was, in itself, what motivated her, but whatever it was, it was compelling. She got out of bed, took a shower, and began planning. She ended up selling or giving away most of her belongings, until she was down to only a few boxes that she would be able to fit into her car, a 1999 Toyota Corolla. She told her boss she would be leaving soon and pinched every penny she would make in those final two weeks. She pulled out a road map and marked out her path, down to the most specific details, such as how many hours she would drive each day, where she would stay, and which exits she would pull off to visit special landmarks. She knew using the GPS on her phone could have sufficed, but Emily had always been inspired by people with stories of daring journeys. Stories from people like Jack Kerouac and Cheryl Strayed and Jon Krakauer. She drew inspiration from daydreams of traveling the world and having stories to tell. She needed her physical map with her scribbles and margin notes and crinkled thumbprints if she wanted to manifest her dreams in the way the characters had done in the books she had read.

Those two weeks were this whirlwind of feeling both empowered to change her life, but also scared and devastated to leave behind the life that had become her normal. She cried at the thought of never again seeing the man she had once thought to be her true love. She sobbed at the many miles this would place between her and her family.

Still, she kept on.

During the days on her drive, she brushed away the thoughts of all she’d be leaving behind, and focused instead on the beauty out the window and all that she had ahead. She pictured herself sober in Colorado, hiking every peak and finding a circle of supportive people who she could support back. What was ahead would be far better than anything she had left behind.

Emily opened her eyes. The sun had begun to set and the only ray of light coming into her apartment at this time was shining on her new Peace lily. She picked it up, walked over to the window, and set it on the sill. Known for its strength and ability to clear a space of toxins, the Peace lily was a symbol of what Emily strived to be. As she bent over to smell the plant, Emily said to herself, “If this Peace lily, a lover of the sun, is able to survive in even the darkest environments…then maybe, just maybe…so can I.”