It was indeed bright and sunny today. I wore sunglasses while driving to a friend’s house, the kind of sunglasses that clip right onto ordinary glasses. They are not at all stylish. In fact, I think they make you look like you are recovering from retinal surgery, though I guess that kind probably wraps around the side as well.
When I drive home, I usually take the road that goes over the mountain. That road goes through some very deep woods that are quite dark in summer. Today, when I finally remembered to take off the sunglasses, I felt I had been given a gift of time. It was so much lighter out than it had seemed with the sunglasses, that my heart soared to know it was earlier. It’s funny how the mind plays tricks like that. Or maybe it’s just me. When daylight savings time comes in fall, I move all the clocks back an hour at different times. That way I get lots and lots of extra hours instead of just one.
If you didn’t follow that, you’re probably normal.
That mountain separates where I live from the metropolises on the other side. On the other side are school, stores, work, highways, train stations. On this side there are green fields, a creek, woods, cows, and home. If I go anywhere, be it work or Chicago, I always feel like I am home at the moment I turn the sharp curve at the top of the mountain and start downhill towards home. I’ve asked others who live back here where they feel the “oh I’m home” feeling and for most it was quite a bit later: the bridge over the creek or the last turn to this lane.
For some reason, GPS systems will direct travelers trying to reach my house to also take that mountain road and they arrive all shook up and feeling as though they would never be able to find my remote house again. I try to refrain from asking why they had ignored the simple directions I had given and instead taken instruction from an ignorant machine. The mountain road is more direct in miles perhaps, but definitely not the easiest, even though last year a bright shiny guardrail was put up all along the steep side. When my mother visited years ago, she tried to extract a promise from me that I would not take that road in the dark or in the rain. Had I been younger, I’m sure I would have argued and taken a stand on principle. But I just said I’d think about it, knowing full well I would always take it. I think she knew also, but nothing further was said. It is interesting to think about how some responses invite endless discussion and some responses put an end to all discussion. Of course, when I subsequently had truly terrifying drives through thick fog, I had to forego sharing with my mother one of those wonderful post-traumatic-experience talks in which the experience is relived and redramatized over and over.
Once I met some friends at an arboretum on the other side of the mountain. They followed me home, but T. drove in the car with me while Liam drove with M., who unbeknownst to me had a serious phobia about windy mountain roads with drop-offs. Liam rode on this road every day or so, but he was quite young and he tuned right into M.’s emotions. Apparently, the whole ride he bounced around and chirped excitedly: “oooooo! We’re getting higher!...... oh no! look down there! It’s so far down! ….. oooooooh nooooo!”
I too wear transitionals, but also have a pair of bi-focal sunglasses which are darker than the transitionals go for driving. If I forget to havethem with us I wear a very "attractive" (not!) spare pair over the top of my transitionals and hope no-one we know meets up with us.
I would love to drive your mountain road and totally empathise with the idea of all the stressful things being on the "other side" We lived and worked in the same field on the farm and when stress hit there was never the release of having driven away. Keep smiling ;o)
My friends don't listen to my directions either. But they pay for it as only 1 person out 10 has ever made it to my house using GPS! Fun story- remind me never to go on a ferris wheel ride with Liam. Also a fun shot.
July 11th, 2015
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I would love to drive your mountain road and totally empathise with the idea of all the stressful things being on the "other side" We lived and worked in the same field on the farm and when stress hit there was never the release of having driven away. Keep smiling ;o)