little did she know...: betwixt

It was a little while back that i felt a disgruntled discontent for my wardrobe. there was just something wrong with it. i have tried to be simple and not excessive in my clothing. buy what i need and only what i need. the only problem is, i don’t seem to get the definition of “need”. and, in the past, shopping has been a less than pleasant endeavor that for the most part i have avoided. and when i haven’t avoided it, in several cases, i have, to quote the old knight in indiana jones, “chosen poorly”. impractically, impulsively, impishly...i just wanted to make it a round 3...

the result is an eclectic smattering of summer dresses, a couple of regret dresses that i plan to set fire to...or just give away, a few v-neck t-shirts, 2 skirts that have probably gotten their moneys worth 10 times over for the use they have received, a hodge podge of colorful cardigans, a vietnamese bridesmaid dress (for reals), and a couple of flannel pieces that basically make up my fall wardrobe. and winter clothes, you ask? my closet knows not of what you speak. now, while i am glad that i do not have excessive attachment to clothing, i had to ask myself: “why do i no longer feel that any of these clothes are appropriate for the cover of my life book"?

the answer floated to the surface of my mind in one of my more fruitful car driving ponders. it came in the philosophy of the airport. i am going to do my best to not get too convoluted and complicated. here goes nothing.

i have always been very at home in airports and have loved them since i can remember. Not even excessive layovers had the might to dim the comfortable feeling i get walking through the terminals, gliding along on the jetson-esque sidewalks while slipping my rosary beads through my fingers and absentmindedly people watching fellow sojourners.

On the most obvious level, i posit that i love the airport because it is either the beginning of an adventure or the sweet homecoming at the end of one. an adventure to new beaches, or old mountains; to friends and fourth of july celebrations on the shady banks of a river i love next to people i love; to weddings and bike rides through aspen strewn trails; to San Pietro and the Chair of Peter; to the home of San Francesco and Santa Chiara; to cobble stone streets and really and truly wonderful pizza; to swim in waters upon which the Savior walked; to touch the Rock of Calvary and stand near where Our Lady stood as she watched her Son die for me; to stand near where Our Lady stood when she met her Risen Son on that Glorious Third Day. and that list rambles on.

i had to

and on the other end? the journey back from whence i flew? well, if you know me, you know i am a home body. and as much as i enjoy drinking in new panoramic views of this beautiful blue marble we humans call our temporal home; well, toto, there’s no place like home. i am almost always ready to be home again home again jiggity jig.

this is home

so the airport represents going forth into unknown (and the potential of getting to know again) places that are beloved or shall soon become thus. it also holds the potential for returning home once again, to warmth, familiarity, comfort, and most of all, family. to my kitchen and my baking goods, to my media room on my couch, to my street, my sky, and my stars. let’s face it, for elisa, the airport is a win-win sitchiation. and, let’s face it a second time, i am a PRO chiller. i could ramble around the airport terminals interminably, and a few times it has felt like i have done just that. whether flying with a crew or solo, i am an equal opportunity airport enthusiast. it is the between land. the land betwixt home and the unknown and the now known back to home.

the airport is its own little world of comings and goings, but there are a million different places and ways that thousands of people are coming and going to and fro. it’s a little hub of untapped potential that only begins to be unveiled when a traveler finally takes off down that runway and into the wild blue yonder. then the journey begins. then that flower of adventure and unforeseen joys begins to bloom in wild anticipation.

which sort of segues (that word looks SO weird) into my deeper level analysis (freshmen psych rears its ugly head) of my attachment to airports. first of all, if i was to apply this airport philosophy to my life, i would say i was currently taxi-ing the stuffing out of that runway. allow me to elaborate further, dear friends.

basically, for most of my life, and more pronouncedly, in the past 7 years of college life wanderings, i have lived in the safety and comfort of airport land. the in between world where there is no such thing as child or adult. there is just this unsure girl that can’t be either. she can’t be a little girl anymore (i mean she can behave like a child, but be a small child she no longer can achieve--that flew out the window when she hit about 5 foot 11 inches), but she sure as heck can’t be an adult. because that would mean a decision has been made. that would mean taking care of myself which, as i already know from not ever trying, is impossible. that would mean taking responsibility for my life. ha. ha. a ha.

so i chose the interminable wanderings of the terminal. slipping the beads of my life through my fingers and lingering in the land of untapped potential, preferring that to taking the risk of flying into the wild blue yonder of unknown worlds, and unforeseen joys and sorrows. i prefer to keep company with my comfortable old pains and sadnesses than hope for the unknown and unforeseeable.

hello there, unknown

and so i went for those 7 years. thankfully, the Beloved would not leave me there to wander forever. and before i knew it, it was august, and i got in line with my boarding pass safely tucked between the already written pages of my life. and then i did the unthinkable:

i boarded the plane.

if only it was a plane to the cayman islands

i moved to Virginia. i left home, i left comfort and the known to stare the unknown in the face. we are still locked in a frightful, eye-burning, tear streaking staring contest in case you were wondering...

the problemo is that my wardrobe has not caught up to my daring. and i am still taxi-ing the life out of that runway.

i would like to stretch my wings and practice flying. but right now there are some technical difficulties. it would appear the plane needs some maintenance prior to take off and so we continue to taxi and wait (often times none too patiently).

it’s too hot. it’s too cold. my legs are cramping. i need to go to the bathroom.
there is a never ending mantra of little discomforts on the runway prior to take off that have me yearning for that blessed terminal with all its well-contained, well-defined, well-known spaces for me to roam risk free and comfy cozy-like. to look out the terminal windows and gaze longingly into worlds yonder, with the comfort of terra firma right beneath my feet.

but i know i cannot go back. i know i would be dissatisfied and very displeased with myself for having taken all of the trouble to get on the plane and waited out the taxi-ing only to return to the terminal. i have too much invested in the potential to soar into that yonder to go back to the terminal.

and meanwhile, my terminal clothes no longer do the trick. they are clothes of my past and no longer match me. we just don’t jive. some are alright, and by some i mean the Sunday dresses that don’t translate well into day-to-day living, and a few things that i have picked up the past couple of months. but i would like a wardrobe overhaul. i need some uniformity and decision in my life. and i need patience and grace to wait out this taxi period.

i need that patience for so many reasons. there is probably a good amount of taxi-ing to come before this plane takes off. and building a new wardrobe takes time. so does building a new life in a new place. life takes practice, trial and error, and time. and a whole heap of Grace and Mercy and Love.

for now, i shall try to bask in the glow of successfully leaving the terminal, and i need to chill the heck out for a minute and enjoy the slow and steady roll down the runway...maybe i’ll even have a cold brew while i wait.