I have always dreamed of escape. The run-away, the other side, the long drive to somewhere else - and I've done that.
Many times.
Whatever you can fit in your heart and your backpack - and then you're off, elsewhere.
These three years? Kinda starting to learn to live with as-it-is. Learned that there is beauty and virtue and strength and not hating where you are.
"Your mouth to god's ears" - we said this at least 3 times a day. Every pipe-dream had this coda.
Even after we got D back, as we sat at the Greek restaurant in Lauderdale by the Sea, eating feta and hummus and skordalia, in celebration with wine and laughter - we still wanted more.
Always something more to want. Always something for which to petition.
Your mouth to god's ears. Whoever is listening has something else in mind, and perhaps it is this:
You don't have to stop believing it can be better, or different, or elsewhere - but you can stop living your life as if you are waiting for it all to change.
The real meaning of this time was not how to escape, was not deus ex machina uplift from a poorly-dealt hand - but a realization that the hand was just that - a hand in a game that made you fold, perhaps, but not crushing, not the end of all good things. That there will always be another hand, the dealer deals and that the game goes on, always.
And you have to love playing, or there's no point.
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