Distant Shores

It was true. Still, it hurt to realize that her father had known it, too. That hed looked into his grown daughters eyes and seen unhappiness.

What would it be like, she wondered, to look in the mirror and see a whole and happy woman staring back at her?

And now, in less than an hour, she would board one of these planes, find her seat, and fly to New York. There, she would move into that trendy, impersonal apartment and once again trim her life to fit Jacks.

"I dont want to go. " She whispered the words aloud, looking up. A sad, tired-looking woman mouthed the words back to her. She stared at her reflection, wondering when exactly shed lost her looks. Had they gone the way of her dreams? And how had she gotten here, to this place so entrenched in the ordinary?

It hadnt been until shed lost her youth and finished raising her children that shed bothered to wonder what came next. More important, when it was her turn.

Now she was consumed by the question. It was a brushfire, burning out of control, and she was terrified that it would char her beyond recognition.

Every little decision had been a brick that had built a wall between the woman she was becoming and the one she imagined she could be.

If that girl dont spread her wings, one day shes plumb gonna forget how to fly.

That was the crux of it. Somewhere along the way of all those ordinary years, shed forgotten how to fly. Wife-and-motherhood had kept her too close to the ground.

No, that wasnt fair. It wasnt the job shed done that clipped her wings; it was the way shed chosen to do it. All across this country women who were good wives and good mothers remembered to become their best selves as well. Elizabeth simply hadnt been one of them.

Maybe it was a weakness in her, a fear of failure that made safety seem more important than fulfillment. Or maybe it was simpler than that. Maybe shed just . . . gone on, done what needed to be done for the day and been too tired by nightfall to reach for something else. There had been days--years even--when she hadnt been able to find ten spare minutes in a day. In those days, when Jack had been playing ball and the kids had been busy all the time, her biggest dream had been a quiet bath in the evening.

She glanced down at her watch.

Her flight would be boarding soon. Nashville to Detroit to New York.

And she decided.

No more waiting and praying for change to occur like some chemical reaction.

She got up, paid for her lunch, and walked back down the busy aisle toward the newsstand. There, she purchased a box of stationery--the only one they had. At the top of each sheet was a line drawing of Graceland and the words: elvis welcomes you to wild and wonderful tennessee.

She went back to the restaurant and reclaimed her seat. Without thinking--or worrying--she began to write.

Dear Jack:

I love you. It seems important to start this letter with those words. We say them to each other all the time, and I know we mean them. I also know its not enough anymore, is it? Not for either of us.

For twenty-four years, Ive been your wife. When we began, I never wanted to be anything else. I guess it became a self-fulfilling prophesy. Now I cant remember the dreams I once had, but I miss them, Jack. I miss me.

I hope youll be able to understand.

No more cheerleader years for me. I need to get in the game. Im afraid if I dont do it now, I never will, and I cant be this shadow-woman anymore. I cant.

So--and heres the punch line--Im not following you to New York. Not this time.

I should have had the guts to tell you this in person. I wish I had that kind of strength. Its funny, I could lift a bus to save your life, but I cant find the courage to say out loud that Ive forgotten how it feels to love you. My voice is one of the things I hope to find.

In all our years together, there has only been one place that was mine, and I dont want to leave it. I dont want to follow you again.

Im going home. I need some time alone. I need to find out who I am and who I can become.

I pray youll understand. I love you, Jack.

E.

She didnt even reread the letter. She folded it up, put it in an envelope, stamped and mailed it.

Then she went looking for a flight to Portland.