My recent flights from Portland to Atlanta and on to Alabama afforded ample time to think.
It was a case of two planes, no trains, and one automobile. Twelve exhausting hours.
Here are my coffee-stimulated, waiting room, intercom inspired thoughts.
“If you want to go fast, go alone.
If you want to go far, go together.” –African proverb.
A few years ago, I joined the Wasabi Warriors and learned to paddle dragon boats.
The sport was physically hard and it was cold on the Willamette River.
As a newbie, I was assigned to the last bench in the practice boat.
I was on the team in name only.
I was out of my league but I persevered.
Many nights after practice I drove home wet and stinking from the river.
Starving, I would stop at Zupan’s for chicken and coffee from their deli.
Good Job, Greer!
I was thrilled when the coach finally moved me up a row and invited me to compete at the next meet!
Driving home home wet and stinking as always, I was glowing with excitement.
Here was something I had been working toward for months!
A feeling of sadness came over me as I sat in the dark parking lot eating my makeshift dinner.
There was no one who could savor my accomplishment with me.
My husband would have hugged me and said, “Good job!”
He would have listened to my stories about the other team members and the ins and outs of practice.
He would have been there for me.
Now, I was alone.
Fast forward a few years.
Learning to paddle a dragon boat was one of the hardest things I have ever done.
It was a new sport. I was cold and miserable most of the time on the river.
Building a life after my husband’s death was the hardest.
I did it. Not perfectly. Not over night. I did it.
I am still working on it.