tamarjacobson

It is as if the clock has turned back and yet I am changed.

Five years ago I was at the peak of my career and then the road became rocky, oh so rocky. I feel as if I have been bumping along, sometimes dragging across sharp stones and craggy cliffs, at others dipping deep into the valleys, an abyss even here and there.

This time at National, I seemed to take a slow, sure, steady climb up the hill. Am not sure that there will be a peak now and that feels good. There were moments of joy, reconciliation and sincere connection, recognition of ancient pains, and yet peaceful in the end of it.

My frenzied conference schedule is over for the time being. I arrived home with a sense of satisfaction, much accomplished. More than I could ever dream or have imagined even just last week. Even the nation seems slightly changed. It is in the air. Change. We have even seen the valley of the shadow these past six years … experienced it … and now, has the darkness softened?

I listen to Tom pottering in the kitchen preparing our evening meal. Ada sits close, steady breathing and a Sphinx-like stare. Rain is dripping outside the window soaking the fallen oak leaves that are piled up outside like a thickened carpet. They glisten in the night under the street lamp lighting up the trees in the woods behind. The Christmas cacti blooming fuchsia, orange, pinks, hugely, deliriously, at the window heralding the holiday season to come.