On that particular morning, despite the fact that I had lived in this house for decades, it felt strange to me, as if it were a place where I no longer belonged. While I was sitting on the side of the bed, my eyes were fixed on the luggage that was only partially packed. My hands were curled around a broken coffee cup that read “Forever & Always.” I did not fail to recognize the irony.
It was as if the opposite side of the bed was making fun of me. I leaned in close to the bed and muttered, “Well, I guess we didn’t make it.” as I ran my fingers over the linens.
The process of packing felt more like sorting through debris than it did like getting ready for a new beginning. After a sufficient amount of time spent clinging to the past, I found that going forward was just as terrible. The only thing that still seemed like it was mine was my unfinished manuscript, which was sitting on my laptop, which was a silent companion to the work that I had done for the past two years.Following then, Lana’s email arrived.”Retreat for creative expression. Island that is warm. A new beginning, and wine.”
Undoubtedly, there was wine present. Lana has the ability to make any concept sound like a feasible option. Initially, I thought about it. For me, running away was never an option. On the other hand, what if this was more than just escaping? But what if it was heading in the direction of something?