Thursday, June 4, 2009

My dad first introduced us to Cheech and Chong in high school. Writing these entries reminds me of this: “the first day on my vacation, I woke up. Then, I went downtown to a quiet job. Then I hung out in front of the drugstore. The second day on my summer vacation, I woke up, then I went downtown to look for a job. Then I hung out in front of the drugstore. The third day of my summer vacation….” This is one of their acts, and if you know Cheech and Chong, you know there is a specific way this needs to be read, a certain tone that can best be explained once you know that before my time, back when vinyl was the music media of choice (yes, I am old enough to know what records, albums, vinyl, 45s, whatever you may call them, are), Cheech and Chong albums came complete with rolling paper. And not for cigarettes.

This has nothing really to do with my day other than that writing these posts makes me want to start each entry with, “the (fill in the blank) day of my summer vacation, I woke up.” And so, the sixth day of my summer vacation, I woke up. And I didn’t do much until I finally got to have my long overdue chat with Peg.

I think talking with Peg is as good for my soul as going home. And if you’ve ever moved away from a place you loved—far away—you know how powerful that is. Peg makes me feel normal. Not in an ordinary sort of way, but like maybe there’s nothing unusually wrong with me. I sat down on a chair on one side of her desk while she sat on the other. Clearing off a space at the edge of her desk so she could see me with no obstructions, she looked at me and asked, “So tell me, what’s going on? What are you doing? How are things? Where are you?” Where am I? It was a lot of questions in one shot. I was sitting in her office, of course, is where I was. I looked at her and then, searching the room with my eyes, in thought, I sighed and said, “ I feel like I’m somewhere between Portland and Kentucky.” “Well, you are,” she stated with hardly a breath between my last word and her reply. I was startled by the response. I didn’t realize I had prepared myself for a reply more along the lines of telling me I should figure out where I am and not be lost in the middle. I looked at her. “I know,” was all I could think to respond for a moment. “I guess I feel like a lot of people tell me I need to figure it out.” “But that’s how you feel,” she stated. “You can’t feel anything other than what you feel.” I was quiet again for a moment and then responded, “Thanks for validating me.” (No, I’ve never taken a counseling class, I’m just that aware of how I feel.) She sort of scoffed, as if to say anyone who would reply differently than she had was simply foolish, and said, “Well, you are where you are. You can’t be anywhere else.”

And this is what is so freeing about talking with Peg. She simply lets you be where you are and feel how you feel. We talked for a long time. We chatted about my struggle to transition into this life I’m unprepared for, and how no longer having a car makes me feel as if I’ve regressed back in time. I was twenty-four years old when I got my license and my car. It was a liberating feeling to know I finally didn’t have to depend on others for transportation, and I feel as if that liberation has been snatched away from me only three and a half years later. “Hmm,” she replied, in thought, “that’s really interesting.” I love that Peg really thinks about the words I say. We talked about seminary. We laughed about Bollywood. We laughed hard. She told me about her dreadful trip to California she just returned from. And we talked about the things that give me life and how it is that I love the college setting but find seminary really difficult to be in. And then I said to her, “Peg, I want to hear the story of how you came here.” She let out a big breath and said, “Oh my,” indicating it is quite a story, indeed. And so next time, perhaps, I will get to know more about Peg. For now, this conversation was a healing one, one well worth waiting for. A conversation in which people laugh really hard over silly things like overly emotional Bollywood films, is the best kind of conversation, for sure. I felt full after we talked, in the best kind of way. My heart is still smiling. I shall go to sleep happy.

And tomorrow…well…will be the seventh day of my summer vacation. And I, indeed, will wake up. Just as I have all the days before.