My hand comfortably reached for the next branch and my right foot found a strong hold a little higher than the left one. I lifted up a few more inches. My head swung around to gather my new surroundings. To the left the leaves parted enough to see across the whole field and all the way to Ben's backyard. Ben was throwing a baseball with his father. To the right I could see my house and the open garage door and my father standing in front talking to Andrew's mom.
It was my world. I settled in, found a perfect curve in the bark, and sat down. I could sit here for hours, watching the field without worrying about being out of my parents' reach when it was time for dinner. I wanted to sit here. I wanted to stay and be the secret king of the neighborhood, sitting on my throne in the tree.
But my sisters were already moving on. For a kid who always wanted to be alone, I was terrified that someone might leave me by myself. I protested, but Mary had already launched herself the last 10 feet to the ground. Sarah awkwardly swung down behind her and said, "Come oooon!"
I was helplessly pulled towards them. A panicky fear welled up up in my chest. I grumbled and climbed down, a slave to the the group's adventure rather than my own.
They drove a firetruck to school and left it right in the parking lot. The classes took turns during the day going out and sitting in the drivers seat. At the end of each demonstration they'd turn the sirens on. It made us all simultaneously smother our ears with our palms while rolling around with excited cackles.
It was Wednesday, so I stayed for AfterSchoolCare. The firefighters hadn't anticipated the half day and had to wait around till 3, which meant that the AfterSchool Kids got to see the firetruck again before going to the playground.
I stood before the Shiny Red Beast in awe. I wanted to walk all around it, touching all the shiny chrome parts that held in the water and tools and strangely dressed men. I wanted to sit on all the ledges, and climb up the ladder on the back. I wanted to hold one of the hoses and pretend to put out a building. I wanted to sit in the driver's seat again, and I wanted to ask the man if I could reach up and honk the fog horn.
But Tom's dad was a firefighter and he was used to seeing the trucks. He got to play with them in the garage sometimes. So Tom got bored before I had barely started my exploration, and decided it was time to run to the playground. Adam and Sam ran off behind him, and that meant I had to go too. I looked mournfully at the truck, waved goodbye, and turned in pursuit of the other boys.
It took me entirely too long to realize that I could explore the world without the safety of the rest of everybody in the world. Perhaps the group of people around me, no matter how close my friendships might be, isn't quite as interested in the things I'm interested in.
In fact, I only learned this lesson a few years ago. I spent almost 20 years with a tethered field of exploration; I obediently followed the group instead of my own curiosity.
Then, one day it just clicked: I don't have to follow them. When we find a new place, I am free and can wander the paths of my wonder without staying within earshot of the pack. I am free.
So when the group falls out of the car onto a new beach or a southern plantation or a slice of Eden washed up on shore, I don't have to be on a Distance Leash. I wander away freely, talking and laughing to myself and sharing secrets with the wind and the surf and the trees and the piles of bricks.
But this is impossible to do with two people (unless you are traveling with an extraordinary person). I've been here two weeks, just me and the pastor. We go for a walk in the rose garden across the street EVERY NIGHT, which is both incredible and horrible. Incredible because he is delightful and sociable and kind; horrible because he is delightful and sociable and kind. I simply can't peel away and satiate my wanderlust because I have to walk with him and exchange stories of the day and muse on the world.
It's great really, and I'm learning a lot from him. BUT I WANT TO WANDER! I want to roam through the grassy pathways and the lay down under a tree and listen to the wind whisper the scent of roses softly through my nostrils.
But by the weekend, other seminarians will be here. We'll still go for our walks, but other people will be around. It will be more appropriate to break away and reenter my own world of quiet audible laughter and secret conversations with the flowers (yes, I talk to flowers and gardens and oceans. Well, I more talk at them than anything else. Yes, I am insane).
The irony is, the presence of a group will finally allow me the freedom to separate from a group. I thought that this whole situation is hilarious: I need company in order to run away from company. Without my community, I'm going insane because I have no community to escape from.
No comments:
Post a Comment