Differences and Balance

I have a love affair with my town. If you read my other blog, the one where I talk about the books that I read and love, you know this already. I live near Fredericksburg, Virginia, and I just love it there. It's the embodiment of all that appeals to the bohemian lurking inside my soul. Plus, it reminds me of Old San Juan, in Puerto Rico. And anyplace that can take me back to the (sometimes) carefree days of my early twenties is bound to be high up on my list of favorite places.

I've got some amazing friends that live in Olde Towne. I met my friend Hannah at the restaurant where I work part time. Her and her husband live on Caroline Street, which happens to be one of the main roads in the area. It's full of buildings that have been there for ages, some for centuries. You can practically feel the history oozing out of the bricks when you walk down the streets. It's very romantic, having the sense that you're seeing an older, simpler time.

Last night, I joined Hannah and her husband at Bistro Bethem, for a night of live music and fun with friends. My own darling husband did not join me, so I was out all by myself. It doesn't happen very often. I felt weird, disconcerted, like I was only half dressed or something. I still enjoyed being out, but just felt "off" all night.

When the Bistro closed, we headed over to Wings on the Water, a fun little place on the banks on the Rappahanock River. A birthday celebration was underway, and I got to be a small part of it. Hannah and her husband know just about everyone involved in any way with the Olde Towne scene, and I always get to meet such fun and interesting people when i'm with them.

I had a great time, got to meet lots of new people, heard some stories that always make me wonder if they really happened. Some things seemed like they could have only happened between the pages of a well-written book. But they were real. For the most part.

As I sat there, surrounded by these characters, I was seized yet again by this feeling that I have to write about this. I've been toying with this idea of a woman that lives there, in the 'Burg, and is part of the scene that I get to witness some nights. She's come here from someplace else, she has nothing with her but her guitar and a notebook full of words from her heart, and she finds her way into these open mic nights all over town, singing her stories to strangers. She has no idea that she's causing such a sensation, because she lives in her own private world. She lives in the life, but she's not really a part of the life. She takes part in some of the rituals, meets some of the people, but she keeps her core, that very deep part of her, hidden away. She becomes fascinated with this man, quite a few years younger than she is, that she sees in some of the same venues. He is everything that she wants to be - fun, young, full of life, not bitter, not in hiding. She sees their differences as tangible things, things that make them too opposite to be the same. then something shocking happens, and she gets a glimpse into the 'real' him. What she sees is that he's hiding too.

There are so may layers to this story, and I haven't even written the first word of it yet. But it's simmering. I have a feeling that I'm going to have to do a lot of research for this one, which may require a lot of time in those places. Research. Yeah, it's a monster. :)

Beyond that, as I drove home, I was struck by how much I resemble that woman in some ways. For me, that 18 mile drive down dark country roads in the middle of the night represented a line of demarcation almost. I cross that line when I step out of my 'normal' life every week and join my friends for a night out. With or without my husband, for a few hours every week I get to become someone else. But is it really someone else, or is it only a well-hidden part of myself that I only let surface on rare occasions? Regardless, I literally make one turn, and that road that starts out in Olde Towne brings me 18 miles to my home. I leave those old buildings behind, pass the train tracks, go through the 'Burg's version of the projects, go by the GM plant and some new pricey housing developments, then I'm in the country. Still on the same road, I pass farms that have been in families for generations, a military base that is nationally known, and the corner store where I stop every day to buy a drink on my way to work. Another few miles and country churches and I'm at my driveway. All the way home last night, I looked around me, seeing the places that grace the landscape of my life. I noticed how one flowed into the next, each one distinct, yet the change was so seamless. I thought about that change, that almost imperceptible shift from one reality to the next, as I left behind the life that I enjoy and reentered the life that I love. And something just clicked.

We are all, every one of us, part of this world. It takes so many different types of people to create each life that we lead. And the life that we choose, the reality in which we currently exist, it changes all the time. Sometimes the change is seamless, like the country road I travel every week. Sometimes, it is a stark change, rife with sadness or chaos. But there is always continuity in the change. There is change in the continuity. Seems contradictory, doesn't it?
But if you think about it, it's not.

Driving home last night, I reconciled the part of me that longs for that 'unorthodox' existence that I glimpse every week with the part of me that craves stability and belonging. I love to be part of that other world, where people often put more thought into the words that they sing than their plans for the future. Yet I also need this haven that I've helped create, where the mom is mostly sane and the dad comes home at the end of every day, and the babies know deep in their souls that they are loved. Both of these people are me. I don't have to give up one for the other. Both can coexist. Without either one of them, I would feel like I was missing something. I would feel every day like I felt last night without my best friend by my side.

I can't deny either part of me. I shouldn't deny either part. The secret is to learn to balance both lives, both worlds, in a way that neither part of me, neither life, suffers.

I think I can do that. Can you?