Falling Off the Grid

I have never been to Mexico, Italy or Asia … or for that matter South America.  I have never seen the pyramids so add Africa to that list too.  I have never gone out dancing alone, but I dance in my kitchen.  I have never gone skydiving.   Same with bungee jumping, but I flew in a helicopter and that was fun.  I have never climbed a tree out of respect for the tree.  I have never gone hunting for the same reason.   I have never climbed a mountain.  I’ve hiked a hill or two but nothing requiring a piton.  I have never gone skinny dipping, although I’ve been tempted.  Snorkeling is the closest I have come to scuba.  I have never swum with the sharks although I have known a few.  I have never run a marathon; I could never find a reason.  Scratch the triathlon too.   Although I was married once, I have never been given a diamond ring.   I have never asked a man out on a date.   It has never been my choice always his.  I have never lived anywhere outside Metropolitan Chicago. 

So I am going to Arizona.  I will live in the wilderness, on the edge of the canyon, next to the stream.  I will live without a blackberry.  I will live without a net.  I am throwing my life up for grabs to live on a ranch, to care for the visitors, to haul water and hay for the horses, and to plant an organic garden.  I am bringing my sketch pad and charcoal.  I am bringing my journal and pen.   I will write under the purest blue sky and record the moods of the desert and track the spiral of the Milky Way at night. I will strap on my hiking boots to explore the red canyon.   I will take those boots off to wade in the clear stream.

I dive into my closet, pulling clothing off hangers, exfoliating my corporate skin, shedding silk and cashmere.  I kick up my heels, tossing suede and leather into green plastic trash bags.  It is easy until I come to my best green suit.  A Jones New York label, it is the deepest green, almost black in certain light.   It is a perfect size eight, a reward for dropping 60 lbs. of depression and guilt so many years ago.   The four button jacket fits me like a second skin, nipping in at the waist.  I never wear it with a blouse, preferring to wear the jacket alone buttoned up because it shows off my collarbones.  The skirt has no waistband and zips up with ease.  Jones uses the best zipper that smoothly disappears into the seam.  The skirt fits my hips and flares at the bottom, like a mermaid.  I love the swish when I walk, powerful and feminine at the same time.  It still looks good.   I am torn.  I set it aside and turn back to my closet, flipping Liz Claiborne, Anne Klein and Anne Taylor over my shoulder with ease. 

I come to my dresses and toss those as well.  Until I pick up the brown and blue one, another Jones creation.  It skims the body with a deep V front and back, with little cap sleeves and pin tucks.   I love this dress.  The chiffon is filmy and light, it can go anywhere that needs a little party.  I have copper heels to match.   When I wear this outfit the compliments come my way.   I am keeping it, the copper heels too.  I look back at the green suit.   It is beautiful but reeks of reams of documents and presentations, of 3 hour meetings and conference calls.  Buttoned up power, it is a corset that doesn’t allow me to breathe.  I put it in the go pile and feel instant relief.

So much clothing and shoes, I got my money’s worth.   I don’t need them anymore but I keep a few dresses and the copper heels.  Those I will need for dancing in Mexico with the man of my choice.  I am going to be happy.  I already am.   I am going to live life on my terms, for the first time.  I am falling off the grid.

1 Comment

  1. Comment by mom

    Posted on December 21, 2009 at 7:11 pm

    this is the start of a book.
    I hope all your expectations will
    happen, you deserve it.

Sorry, the comment form is closed at this time.