04 May 2011

Nowhere

23 Comments Uncategorized

Don’t you ever just want to pack it all up and move to a cabin in the middle of Nowhere?

Open a coffee shop where regulars order “The Usual” and passers-through order the short stack.

Have your kid do his homework in the back room while eating his dinner: whatever the night’s special is… Probably meatloaf or lasagna.

Count the day’s take over a cup of coffee. Pack up some apple pie and head home…

To your cabin.

In the middle of Nowhere.

Don’t you ever just want to wake up and take a walk down a country road where there’s nothing to see but trees and birds and sunshine?

Pick up a stick and throw it as far as you can.

Do a puzzle on the kitchen table.

Watch your kid laugh so hard at something, neither of you can breathe.

Take some food to your friend and drink some lemonade.

Run circles with your kid until you both fall down.

Take a nap in a hammock and wake up, warm and groggy.

Don’t you sometimes just want to go to bed with the windows open?

In the middle of Nowhere.

With a breeze through the curtains, enough to make you use your blankets.

Holding hands with your partner.

Listening to the soft breath of your kid in the next room.

In the cabin in the middle of Nowhere.

Where we could live. If we were willing.

written by
Lisa Arch likes being a working actress... but LOVES being a Mom!

23 Responses to “Nowhere”

  1. Reply Sherry says:

    YES!! πŸ™‚

  2. Reply Norma Lamothe says:

    Yes but I want to live on top of a very high moutain and live off the land.

  3. Reply Christine says:

    Beautiful. You are on the verge of a life changing epiphany. All that’s left is for you to realize what needs to be let go and what needs to be embraced.

    My own epiphany came while resting fitfully on the couch after chemo number two. I realized I had spent years getting things done. Running and working and doing. Not slowing down to smell the roses. Not stopping to breathe. Well, Universe sure did stop me in my tracks. Forced me to not only slow down, but to stop, to look around, to see my life clearly and evaluate it with raw truth.

    And I realized all that I hadn’t done.

    I hadn’t taken a walk down a country road where there’s nothing to see but trees and birds and sunshine

    I hadn’t picked up a stick and thrown it as far as I could.

    I hadn’t done a puzzle on the kitchen table.

    I hadn’t watch your kid laugh so hard at something, neither of us could breathe.

    I hadn’t taken some food to my friend and drank some lemonade.

    I hadn’t run circles with your kid until we both fell down.

    I hadn’t take a nap in a hammock and woken up, warm and groggy.

    I hadn’t spent enough time holding hands with your partner, listening to the soft breath of my kid in the next room.

    The fear of never having the opportunity to do all those things, and so many others, was the worst fear of my life. And when I got better, I did every single one. (except the hammock. Hammocks make me nauseous) I did everything that was beautiful and pure and real and loving and I did those things over and over and over, healing my body and my spirt and my soul.

    And I learned that I didn’t need to wait until we went on a vacation, or until we had a special occasion, or until we had the time, or until we were in the middle of Nowhere.

    And I learned that Nowhere isn’t a place. Its a space in time, a moment between heartbeats, a choice made as easily as breathing. Its letting go of all teh crap we think we should do, are obligated to do, have to do. Its choosing to respect life and love and spirit. Its choosing to not just live life, but to live life well.

    You don’t want to be Nowhere. You want to see and feel and breathe and live like its Nowhere in the Somewhere that you already are. The Somewhere full of moments that don’t have to wait until you get to Nowhere.

    Somewhere is a good place. I’m glad I was forced to stop and see it and appreicate it and make it as good as, and often better than, Nowhere.

    Welcome to Somewhere. Have a nice day πŸ™‚

    • Reply Christine says:

      Aw, crap! I meant watching MY kid laugh and holding hands with MY partner, not yours. I wish I could edit posts here after they were submitted. I am the queen of dumb typos! Ugh!

    • Reply Karen says:

      Christine:

      You took my breath away. Thank for you sharing your journey. So often we get caught up in all the bullshit we forget what really matters in life. I’m glad you got to do the things you wanted and thank you for letting me into Somewhere. I don’t think I will ever leave.

      Karen

      • Reply flawlessmom says:

        KAREN! So great! Christine is such a good writer with such an amazing experience. I’m thrilled you read her comment so she could reach you, too.

    • Reply flawlessmom says:

      Oh my god, Christine. I knew you’d totally get it. And you could not have put that any more beautifully. Thank you so much for making me see your side of Somewhere. It’s perfect.

  4. Reply Koch says:

    I love when you write like this. So awesome. We’re on Catalina Island right now and you wouldn’t believe the silence you wake up to in the morning. We are about to take a walk up the hill where there is nothing but views, birds and bison.

  5. Reply Josh Bloomberg says:

    Every fucking day of my life.

  6. Reply David says:

    Lady, this is what my hindbrain considers every waking moment. Although I love my apartment (and Thank GOD I live by myself), I am NOT fond of city living. I have always been a homebody, and living out on the range appeals to me, and has ever since I was a teenager (yes, I’m strange–I’m cordial, but I’ve never been thrilled being around folks much, and quiet, open spaces in the dark where you can actually see stars is thrilling). Before I’m fifty, though, (in NINE YEARS–exhaled breath, here), I will have such a place. That’s a damned promise.

    Okay, got to get back to the Nut Farm, such as it is. You and the Fam hang in there, okay?

    • Reply flawlessmom says:

      David, I think 9 years is a more-than-reasonable amount of time to give yourself to reach that goal. Good for you!! I’m already jealous…

  7. Reply Lisa Page Rosenberg says:

    Can I come along. I travel light. (Just one big man, one small one, one cat and one dog.)
    Also? I’m really good at side-work.

    • Reply flawlessmom says:

      Lisa!!! Start packing! And please refill ketchups on table four. Don’t worry. My diner only has six tables. And nine seats at the counter. πŸ˜‰

  8. Reply AL says:

    Been there, living that. It takes courage to let go of some things that you thought might be important…sometimes, a lot of courage. It’s called breathing room. Taking the time to hear yourself breathe, actually, hear the land breathe. I love Christine’s reflections. God Bless.

  9. Reply Angela says:

    Luv it!!!!!! U wrote that?

Leave a Reply

UA-54344670-1