Yes, it is Mid April. And realities is starting to hit.
I leave August 1st.
And there is a plethora of things that must happen. A to do list. But it is that sensitive time of life where there is still a current list of things that must be done as well. I am stuck in the midst of STAAR testing and students who have come to call my name in groans and gratitude. Pacing calendars for the summer and work commitments calling and I answering because I love paying my rent on time. (Well sorta on-time, that grace period be a blessing).
I returned my beloved furniture and 65 inch television. I’m looking at clothes with a scratch pad in my head. I didn’t buy a cool t-shirt because I just realized it wouldn’t make it to the 20 must have items needed in a suitcase. And I have sticky notes next to the art in my bedroom…denoting who will get what.
Who will get my stories.
I didn’t realize that was what I was doing. I gifted a precious gift to one of my babies. A series of stories of my life and purpose and passed it on to young girl with a prayer that she will remember to ask about me and my life on what caused me to become who I am. My art pieces are being placed into hands of people who will walk past them and be blessed with the waves of paint in the motions I did. And perhaps whisper a prayer. I have passed on books, shirts and small tokens to people who see the world that is inside me.
All in the effort to leave my stories in the states. I think maybe it is the reality, I don’t have a child to pass down a legacy too. That there is no one who is invested in me to want to know the history of my blood, my words, my fears, my victories…so I have decided to scatter them around the world…these stories. Like the ashes of a cremated warrior. Kinda dark huh?
I don’t think so. I think it is purposeful. I think it is stronger than locking everything up in a storage room, waiting to be seen again. I think it is a chance to attempt to leave a mark behind…a spark perhaps or even a hope. But I also think it is a chance to open up space for new stories. To not get so caught up in the past that those moments become crippling and binding. Its an opportunity to know sit back and know what this time is for me and prepare for it.
And I am preparing.
I don’t want to come back. I want to move forward. It doesn’t mean I deserve to be forgotten. It doesn’t mean the impact that I have had here should be any less. That the work or the time or the memories mean to become dust in the wind. I know that the power within me is stronger than that. And I am grateful for all of that…and I want the people with my stories to honor that as well.
Uchaguzi. Choice. I understand it’s their choice to decide to honor. It’s my privilege to be able to give it…but their choice to decide to hold it. Embrace it. Learn it….or store it away. That is the scary piece for me….letting go of the control of what you should do with my destiny, but trusting my inner voice to know that it is going to the right place and I don’t have to dictate it anymore.
This is a serious post. Trust me I know, I am trying to find memes to lighten the mood. But it is a vital post. Leaving behind the power of who you were to find the light of are now….its a difficult task.
But a needed one.
And I go. And if I have passed to you….a story….a trinket. A tidbit. Know that it comes with hope, love and sincerity.
And if you are reading, I encourage you to leave your story behind as well. What good does it do locked up in storage waiting for your return. Like old toys, looking for a friend who has gone away to mature…you never know if the story you could leave behind maybe a light to another’s path….