Into the arms of Love

This morning Syd gave me a booklet of quotes she had collected. In purple marker she titled the booklet, "Words of Wisdom For You while catalogue shopping." One of the quotes reads, "She wasn't where she had been. She wasn't where she was going...but she was on her way."

Rather abruptly. I found myself in downtown Vancouver. Suddenly the only people who would make eye contact were the kind of folk with whom you don't necessarily want to be making eye contact. My familiar trail dirt was replaced by the skeezy scum of public places in a big city. A hooker leered at me from across the top of the cop car against which she was pressed while being cuffed. Men hooted at me in a variety of languages. China Town in Vancouver. Great. I quickly found an economy hotel with two locks on the door, no window and a small TV. I locked myself in and wondered. Where was I? Who was I? The identity which I had spent so many miles building; The confidence which I had earned. It felt like I was trading on a bunk currency.
The next day I jumped on the bus to Seattle. I was both frightened and in mourning. The palpable life of my PCT journey was over.

When I arrived at the Amtrack station in Seattle, Dan and Edward were waiting. As they wrapped their arms around me, the spaces of my self which had shrunk away, welled back up and I felt whole. I felt comforted. I felt loved. They had brought balloons and flowers and doted in a way which simultaneously made me blush and made my chest puff up.
Allow me to back track: through the end of the bad weather days, when my appetite was ravenous, and even through the final wonderful weather days on the trail when food fantasies were prevalent, I often ventured back to this All You Can Eat Mongolian restaurant where Dan and Edward had taken my family when we visited, some 5 years ago. I had eaten myself sick and when Anna came to check on me in the bathroom, she found me rejoicing at the realization that, having just emptied my stomach, I could eat all over again!
Flash forward, I was craving that restaurant again, but this time I had earned my merit and would hold my own. I had not yet worked myself up to asking the uncles to take me there. On our ride back to Renton, Uncle Dan glanced over at me and he casually suggested that they wanted to take me out to eat and there was this Mongolian place down the road from their house. It seems my stomach had been pulling some strings in the cosmic connections department!
The next day I found out that Rif-Raf and Shannon had just caught a bus down to Seattle as well. Now, here's the deal, we are used to coordinating rendezvous in tiny towns; places where crossing paths is all but inevitable. Our skill set was not gauged to Seattle caliber. However, with a great deal of patience and commitment from Uncle Dan, we met the boys at the bus station. From there he dropped us all off at Pike Street Market where we randomly encountered Princess and Lip and her parents. We chatted on the corner; a small huddle of familiarity in the midst of bustling indifference and sound pollution. The girls headed off, we bid our final set of goodbyes.
Then, as coordinated by cell phone contact, Frog and Nancy found us. It was so wonderful to see their faces again. Well, Nancy's face at least. I really only saw about half of Frog's, as he was sporting a beard which would put a Russian to shame (but I was very happy to see the half which I did=P). Seriously; the thing was epic. We ate and shared stories, as we had been separated from Frog for the final leg of the trail. I watched each of their faces, trying to memorize them. For a while I was incredibly aware as our time together grew shorter. Then I thought, "Fidgit, get off your little 3rd person observer could and BE with your people." As soon as I committed to that, time became irrelevant, but flew by anyway. Suddenly, our time was up and the uncles were there to take me home. Rif-Raf had a plane to catch. The others had hotels to find. It happened just like that. The family disbanded, already on our ways to being stories and cherished memories. Each moving into unrealized futures.
While the uncles were open to my spending more time in their home, I ran. The conclusion of a long trail was a new experience for me. I have arrived at and subsequently left many places, both physical and mental, many times but I don't know that I will ever become accustomed to it. I have, however, become familiar with the process and know that abrupt periods of sedation are open pockets for depression to ooze in and fester. Terrified, I scuttled on to a plane to Duluth, Minnesota.
Again, the voyage cast me adrift anonymous, but I moved with less trepidation this time. Well, actually I was just really distracted. See, I had taken an orange for the airport and decided to eat it while waiting for my flight. Now, Rif-Raf can attest that even when armed with my pocket knife all I end up with is a gore of pulp and juice running over my hands. Factor in airport security and my trying to peel this thing by hand and, well...having been so fixated on peeling the darn thing it wasn't until I was trying to tilt my head to approach the massacred corpse of orange at such an angle as to minimize the dribble on my chin that I noticed several other passengers watching, aghast. I hustled off the the restroom to wipe juice off my arms, elbows, chin, neck, etc. and just barely made last call onto the plane for which I had been "waiting" for over an hour.
So, yeah, if you're ever trying to escape from fear, a messy job of an orange is a good place to hide.

Syd and grandpa were waiting for me at the nearest point possible. Again I was ensconced in love. Again I was treated to all you can eat; Olive Garden soup, bread sticks, and salad. Heavenly. Grandpa insisted on informing everyone who came within 10 feet of us that I was his granddaughter who had just hiked 2500 miles. Again and again I blushed. I have never been one to shy from credit for my own accomplishments but I just don't know how to fill this one.
I have spent a week up at Syd's beautiful home on the lake. I sleep a lot; I meander out onto their many trails to walk, run, or bike. Sometimes Ruff and Ready (their two, tiny dogs) escort me, sometimes I go alone. Each day we are blessed with marvelous temperatures and blue skies. I have purchased a car, gotten my hair cut, and glasses; tools I will need to move into this next place/phase. At night I dream that I am still on the trail and wake up surprised to find myself in a bed contained within solid walls. Using a toilet has been an adjustment. Each evening I have to empty my pockets as I am still in the habit of keeping trash there. I am embarrassed at what a challenge it is to pedal a bike. I have to keep track of how much I eat. I have plenty of time for yoga and a beautiful stretch of flat, green grass looking out over a lake on which to practice. I get and give hugs and kisses several times every day. Syd and I sit up talking into the wee hours of the morning. Grandpa explains more about my car than I can hope to process in a single spell. He warns me of serial killing truck drivers and reminds me to wear my seat belt on the drive home. I head for Kansas City tomorrow.

I have been congratulated on my accomplishment. Certainly I am proud and fulfilled. I feel better connected to the source of my own strength and while moments can certainly still overwhelm and make me feel far from it, I am certain that strength come from within. Not defined by others' opinions or assessment, I recognize the infinite source of my own worth. Infinite, and in constant need of being fed and nurtured, allowed to breathe; open to helping and being helped, as that exchange is integral to healthy growth.
Yet, as I prepare to return to my home, to my family and friends, I am faced with overwhelming Reality. Those same people who effusively congratulate me on hiking the trail are wrestling with challenges a thousand times more difficult. Matters out here are complicated by so many factors. On the trail, my direction was always clear. The path was not necessarily always evident, but I could make an educated guess based on the lay of the land. Out here, in 'the real world', it seems like struggles are more akin to my experience on the 'knife's edge', being lost in fog. Some situations seem to stand with no real path, no resolution in sight, all we can do is fortify ourselves to push on through. Words of comfort fall, hollow and asinine before being spoken. I can only promise to stand close at hand and offer support, even as I have been given so much love and support throughout my life. If nothing else, together we can sustain ourselves and know that time will continue to do as it always has; we just have to survive long enough to be there for it.