Six months ago, I got on a plane and left home. Six days ago, St. Rodrigue closed for the session and everyone scattered for home. Six weeks from now, we'll get on a bus and return home for our second session. Six months from now, I'll get on another plane and leave another home. . . . Each of these statements seems equally nonsensical to me at this point. I've lost all sense of time here, caught in a place where days are a jumble of fast-forward and slow-motion, weeks are endless, and months skip past. It seems almost silly to me that we spend so much time claiming space for ourselves wherever we are, just to leave it behind in the end. Somewhere along the way St. Rodrigue has become home, and the idea of leaving is almost as incomprehensible as the thought of coming once was. It would be so much easier if only our lives were transferable, like those old colorform boards - you remember, the ones that had the vinyl figures that you stuck on the cardboard background, creating any number of scenes . . . I had a Smurf one. No matter how much you mixed up the picture, it was still made up of the same elements. Instead, I keep creating new lives for myself, and I'm always stuck with the impossible task of integrating them into one another. But perhaps the arrival of winter holidays has just left me a bit contemplative.
As we walked to the bus-stop on Saturday morning, it seemed almost unreal that we could just leave a place that had become the center of our lives. (when you live in St. Rodrigue, there aren't very many things competing for that place in the center) And just when we have accepted St. Rodrigue's absence for the holidays, it will be time to go back and begin all over again. It will be interesting to see what perspective we gain in this six week break from our current reality, or whatever you would like to call it.
In a moment of blatant truths, I will say that this first session has not been a so-called bowl of cherries, or a veritable walk in the park, or *fill in with the cliche of your choice.* We have grumbled and complained our way through many nights here. We have been lonely beyond belief here. We have bruised ourselves running into so many walls here. (not literally, well, except on our extremely clumsy nights) But, we are STILL here. And that is what matters in all of this. For all the frustrations, setbacks, and broken expectations, I am tied to here, I am devoted to my girls, and through gritted teeth, I push forward. And I do not want to believe that one day I will have to get on a plane and leave this home. So, instead, I just avoid thinking about that as much as possible.
