Laying Ghosts to Rest

It's been a weird old life. It certainly took twists and turns I could never have predicted from my teens until now. I don't think of myself as being haunted by my past - I have regrets, but I have the insight to know that the blessings in my life would not have happened had I walked a different path. So I was a little surprised at the depth of my reaction when my ghosts ambushed me the other day.

Traveling to my Dad's, with my Little Man riding next to me, I knew I was going through West Virginia. But I hadn't looked closely at the route, since I was going to be on the interstate and had a big adventure planned to hike on the Appalachian Trail for a short time with my son. This was a mistake... because it was only when I started to see the signs that I realized we were going to be driving right past where it all began.

I left nothing in WV. I'd been there for a year, in a decision I still struggle to understand, and I left on a decision I think I understand but struggle to understand why I made. Why? What was I thinking? Was I thinking? All these ghosts were suddenly in the car with us. Just as we were cruising past the exit, my son queued up Take Me Home, Country Roads, and I found myself struggling not to cry. What's wrong? he asked.

It's complicated. I told him honestly. I'm not sure I could have explained then. I'm not sure I can explain now, days later, and after a trip back to look those ghosts full in the face and struggle to understand my past mental state that landed me where I am now, in a twisted broken way. It's complicated, and I might not be able to fully explain, but I feel compelled to try. I write about my mistakes, my hard lessons, in the hopes that some reader might get some good out of them, and be able to learn from my bad example. I think the first one is: don't let other people dictate your path. I wound up at that college not because it was high on my list. It wasn't. It didn't have a major I wanted. It wasn't in a place I wanted to go, and there was no one I knew there. I have no idea, looking back, why I went there. None. I cannot remember the thought process that got me to that point. Once I was there? I'm really good at being happy where I am. And that area of WV is not hard for an outdoorsy girl like I was to be happy in.

The New River Gorge. Hiking, rock climbing, and whitewater river rafting. Paradise in a way.

This was the first time I'd been away from family. The first time I'd had the freedom to do things like *le gasp* date. I had so much to learn, so fast. There's a reason I have a light hand with my kids. Maybe too light, but I want them to learn about life before they have to live it. I walked into situations with, shall we say, no situational awareness. I'm having trouble writing about it, it's very personal and intimate, and very difficult. I am afraid to say too much. I'm afraid to say nothing at all. Perhaps I'll have to wait a while until the right time for that part.

Suffice it to say, I was in a place where I hadn't thought through what I was going to do - other than 'go to college' and in a mental space that was well-trained to be obedient. I thought I was doing what was wanted of me. It wasn't necessarily a direct message. The messages were frequent, subtle, and pervasive. From church teaching, to the fiction I read, and most especially the peers around me who were pairing off with all the naturalness of springtime songbirds.

When I told my son as we saw the sign for the college, I pointed and said "I met your father there." He instantly responded "I don't want to see it." I didn't really want to see it, either. Still haven't. My ghosts aren't there. They're with me, in a sense. And I have no reason to go back there - it was not a healthy place, then or now.

I used to have a picture, somewhere, of me sitting on this point. A very young, confident, almost arrogant me. I wonder where she went, and what happened to her.

I came back alone on the way home from leaving the Little Man in safe hands. I'd been afraid that 20 years of time passing would have erased my memories of the places I really did want to see. But I saw a photo and a trail name and knew immediately that was the spot. So I drove alone, and I thought about it. It's not that I needed to do this. It is, and shall continue to be, that I am free to do this. 23 years after I left here, not alone, not entirely of my own free will, I was coming back, alone, under my own power, and I was closing the circle. Pulling closed a door to the past that I hadn't realized was standing open all this time.

The rapids of the New River far below me.

I didn't recognize the trail head. I'm not sure we used it, or one at another spot on the trail. It wasn't until I was high on the rim of the gorge that the memories came flooding back. The terrain was rocky, with twisted pines on the cliff edges, and I remembered the laughter with friends, sharing snacks and sitting on the edges of rocks high over the raging river below. It was a beautiful memory full of wonder and joy. I sat on the rocks, my legs tucked under me, a safe distance from the edge, and thought about all the changes in me since those days. I have four wonderful children, who are closer in age to me-then than me-now. They face some of the same struggles I faced then. Have I equipped them sufficiently for that? And what shall I do when this main thrust of my life force is spent and they are on their own? But mostly I sat there and stared down at the river and wondered what would have happened if I hadn't quit the river guide job. If I had stayed there, finished my first degree, and done what I'd planned to do in life. How different I would have been. How different my present would be.

Looking down on the birds and railway tracks that run along the river's course.

I'd be poorer, I think. For all the differences. For the pain I had to walk through to get here. If I had stayed, there with the river and trails and the future wide open in front of me, I wouldn't have the First Reader to come home to. I wouldn't have four children who drive me crazy while being the joy of my life. I don't regret any of this. I laid my ghosts under the cliffs, stood up, and hiked back down the trail in the company of a group of college kids, who work at a local camp and were out with their dogs. Their chatter and laughter reminded me of the ghosts who walked with me, happy, and keeping pace with the young and old alike. They were me, then, and I wish them all the joy of their lives from these experiences.

I'll go back. It's a great place for adventure, and I can coax the kids into coming with me to enjoy the views, and the river, and the stunning scenery. The ghosts are quiet now that I've face them and know where they live. Life may be different, but it's full of happiness. I've succeeded in spite of it all. And I'm good. I'm free.