Direction

I am back from my Chicago trip. It was one of those experiences where I was so many places at once – in my head, anyhow. Eckhart Tolle would not have been impressed.

There were many triggers to my past, starting with the air. The atmosphere in the Midwest is different from the air in California – particularly the crisp, autumn air that welcomed me every day in Chicago. One step outside the door and I was transported to the mounds of fall leaves my siblings and I used to take a half-hour to pile high, only to destroy them with jumps, stomps, and raucous throws.

Staying with my friends, Adam and Joyce, and their 18-month old brought me back to my days as a young mother, nurturing toddlers. The sentimental side of me idealized the loveliness of living life with a little one, their little hands grasping mine, their random running through the house like surly cats. Yet, watching Adam work late into the night after his baby was asleep reminded me of the challenges on the schedule, too.

I have to admit, I fed the reliving of my layers in life. I drove through Evanston, where I had lived one college summer, retracing my steps to the bus stop, to the cafe, to my workplace. How could it be that 22 years have passed since then? And how could I have possibly known at that one day I would return to that same neighborhood as a Californian, part New Yorker, a Jewish woman, an author, and single mom? I never would have believed it.

On my last day, I met my first boyfriend for lunch. MG and I dated in college, but hadn’t seen each other or spoken in the last 26 years. Oddly, we talked as if we had just spoken yesterday. Seeing him, being in the presence of his kindness, humor and generosity, gave me such strength. If I had had such amazing judgment at the age of 18 to pick him for a boyfriend, I guess I could certainly trust the decisions I made in my life today.

And then there was the present. I attended Adam and Joyce’s synagogue, Aitz Hayim. There is so much that moved me about this service, it will have to be a post on its own. Suffice it to say that it holds true to its claim that it is a “different kind of synagogue.” I’m still smiling from the spirit, and reeling from the teachings.

With all of the tumult of the past and present swirling about me, the future still sung out in the wind. I loved speaking at the shul, just as I loved stepping in the Chicago Tribune Tower for my WGN interview. Reading the etchings on the walls in the stunning art deco lobby, quoting the merits of writing and journalism, I felt chills. I had finally answered my pull to writing, something I had felt since elementary school. And now, I was continuing my journey into the media. I was finally headed exactly where I wanted to go.

I hadn’t  wanted to travel without my kids. But they were with me everywhere, just as my past and future were, too.  It seems no matter where we go, we’re facing in many directions.

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