I’m driving my son’s slightly beat-up and definitely well used 2004 Honda Pilot, his twin brother in the passenger seat beside me. Every time I turn a corner the golf balls that fill the pocket in the driver’s side door roll and crash around in a mini thunderstorm. I can’t stop grinning and that’s taking me pleasantly by surprise. I look to Braden and exclaim, “Isn’t this exciting?!” He chuckles back to me, for once more circumspect and composed than his mother.
I stop at the red light, lean forward slightly and peer up through the dirty windshield. I can just see the tips of two magnificent bows pointing the way home from their secure, roped down perch on the top of the car. I can’t help grin again. This is what joy feels like. I have finally found the way through my adult maze of serious protection and found my child’s inner delight. Or rather, she found me.
I have wanted a kayak for so long that the wanting seemed to be as much a part of me as my hazel eyes and my fair, quick to burn skin. The wanting long ago settled in to sit comfortably beside the well watered illusion of my marriage. In the nest of Those That Will Never Be.
Five years ago the illusion of my twenty-four year marriage was swept away in the tsunami of deceit and betrayal and with it went that well feathered nest. Although I didn’t know it at the time, this was the beginning of freedom for me. Freedom from the crazy making constraints of trying to find truth within the prison of narcissism. Freedom from a marriage I now recognize as unhappy. Freedom to make my own choices. It was the greatest gift I have ever received.
And now, sitting elegantly on the floor in my living room, cushioned protectively and lovingly with my son’s childhood comforter, sits the ride of my dreams. My ship has finally come in and her name is Eliza. Beside her sits her best friend, Delilah. Mango and Fire. One kayak for me and one for a friend to use.
When I’m paddling silently, exploring coves and beaches I would never otherwise get to see, I’m changing my perspective. Exchanging my upright on land outlook for a gliding contemplation on water. Eliza and Delilah are so much more than kayaks, they are a long held-down dream realized. They are the symbol of my freedom.