Sometimes a truly vivid memory bubbles up out of the blue. Has this ever happened to you on the anniversary of a momentous experience? It certainly happens to me.
Perhaps this occurred today because find myself in another hotel bed, transitioning between one place to another.
Fourteen years ago today I was technically homeless: our worldly belongings were packed in a moving van, I was in a hotel room, this time with my husband, 3 daughters, a rabbit, and 2 Siamese cats. We were about to leave Topeka KS, the place I had lived my entire life, and move to San Antonio TX. Along with us were around 50 employees and their families, all taking a gigantic leap of faith with us (thank you!).
I received a telephone call on that morning that my mother went into the hospital in acute congestive heart failure. Warren Meyer, a cardiologist friend of mine, was caring for her. I distinctly remember sitting at her bedside feeling like I was in an impossible place: how could I leave my mother, yet how could I not go with my children and husband? Warren asked me how quickly I could get back. At the time, the answer was in under 4 hours. He said, "Leslie, you need to go. You need to be with your children". Of course he was right, and really there was no question about it, yet at the time it felt like an impossible place to find myself.
My mother survived that round, we made it to San Antonio, and carved out a new life. Those first 6 years were challenging as I spent so much time shuttling between TX and KS while my mother's health declined.
Why am I writing this? I write because a blog is a memory-keeper, of sorts. It seems important to say that, throughout it all, my family and friends supported me in ways I could never have imagined. It was a difficult (& delightful!), bittersweet period of my life: I lost my only sister, then my mother, during those years. Some of you were with me all along, and some of you I was lucky enough to find along the way.
I just want to say thank you, from the bottom of my heart. I honestly can't imagine how I would have gotten through those years without you.
