PARTING WAYS

I guess we haven't communicated well for a while, but I'm not sure when the silent treatment began.

We’re on a train traveling through North Dakota, somewhere between Grand Forks and Devil’s Lake – watching the sun on the sandstone hills, on the eternal prairie, ranch and farm, on the horses, and on the paint peeling off clapboard. Chill penetrates the window - snow is ahead of us in Montana, I hear.

With a chirp, my laptop reminds me of our meeting this afternoon in Dar Es Salaam, and I realize how long it's been since I shared with it what was going on.

I never updated it with all of the changes in our plans – scheduling surgery, cancelling the work trip to Africa, booking the train to visit mom and dad, suffering the shift of expectations, slowing down and getting grounded, living with the unanswered questions that require our time. I think - I should change my calendar. But what can I tell it?  

Maybe it's better to let it go - with my smart phone and Google account and Apple ID – go on without me, living that planned life from which I’ve been forced to diverge.

Yes - I’ll keep to this other path alone where I can only take what comes, only do what’s in front of me, only wait. I’ll check in now and then to see where my laptop thinks we are and find out how that other life is going. A clean break is best for both of us, I think. It doesn’t even need to know I’m gone.

I’ll close its notification about our plans in Tanzania and go back to counting how many colors are in North Dakota’s grass and sky.

by Lori Martin, 11/6/15