Self-Portrait in Mirror Reflection

In thoughtful wonder
Dreams are thrown free
Silence Whispers
To the Powers that BE
Thank you, Creator
For Blessing me.






Today was the last day at my work place. Today was the beginning of a new life for me. Today was not simply defined by having lost my job, it was defined by something much more powerful and significant. Today was more than beginning a new life... it was leaving a past one behind. I feel totally unemcumbered. I feel set free. I feel the possibility of soooo many things before me.

In the late summer of 2002, a man, whom I loved deeply and quite dearly, traveled across the country, all the way from California, just to be with me. He must have loved me a whole lot, to have left the laid back energy of California, to find his way into the South. I can say that he certainly had his reservations. He'd heard about the South, ya know. I can't imagine what went through his mind, as he traversed the one lane, one-mile dirt driveway, full of ditches and pot-holes, that required constant re-shoveling, and that had sent him deep into the middle of the woods, to find the little block hunting cabin, where I was waiting, and that we would call home. It was a beautifully private and peaceful haven, in which to start a new life. But, two years later, he would be dead, leaving behind a jumbled aftermath, in me. It also happened that I began my job out at Fort Gordon during that very same summer, just weeks before his arrival. I had started out at Roads & Grounds, and moved up into Transportation. First as the gopher, next as a fill-in at the NTS desk, later into Inbound for a couple of years, next as Receptionist, lastly as an Outbound Clerk. I loved my job. But I hated and despised getting out of bed at 5:00 A.M. and making the long commute. Worse, I hated the work place atmosphere. I loved my co-workers, like sisters... but most of them were a bunch of cut-throat bullies, who had been reared in dah hood. Thank the Powers that BE, I can finally move on. I have survived.

I started taking my things home two days in advance. I can't believe all the stuff that can accumulate in a small cubicle. Much of it turned out to be things that had been given to me by my co-workers, over the past Holidays. I'm anxious to be rid of the energy that clings to them, so that I can move on. Two days ago, the older gentleman, who has kept my desk in fresh flowers, from tiny blooming twigs, in tiny vases, stolen from blooming shrubs asks, "If I give you a plant, will you promise to keep it and cherish it forever and ever?" As I made my way through the office, the final half hour, getting hugs from each cubicle, he gives me a piece of a purple plant, tucked neatly into a dirt filled cup, and I issue forth, in my finest Scarlet-like drawl, "oh, I will keeep it and chairish it fowah evuh an evuh." Next cubicle, the lady who had made a racist remark about my caucasian hair. She knows about all the nasty germs in caucasian hair, she had told me, because she read about it, she had said. This, upon my arrival at that place. Big hug to her, too, with her golden colored contact lenses, sporting tiny pin point pupils (I read somewhere, once, that those who are possessed of eveeel spirits have tiny pin point pupils). Gloria, secretary, office event planner, and Peacemaker, had forced us into the office, together, after that remark, 5 years ago, where we had both shed tears and made up.

Before I can make my way to the final desks, so that I can spend a moment with each one, they have ushered me back to my own desk and begin clapping and chanting, "Go Sarah! Go Sarah!"... at which I am forced to do my little happy dance! We do have some rituals in that office that can't be ignored! The Transportation Officer (govn't watch-dog) goes for his hug and says, "Well, since it's the last one, let's take it reeeal slow," then he embraces me and grabs my (somewhat) silken hair and strokes it one last time... and begins telling the girls how he usually liked to come by my desk a couple of days a week and play with my hair. Mostly, he just liked to muss it up, to get on my nerves! He didn't tell them about the time he had snuck up behind me, stood smack behind my chair, and watched as I took one small Reeses cookie out of the pack, closed the drawer, then continued to watch as I pulled the cookie apart, and began toothing the peanut butter from the center. Right in the middle of this ritual, I had heard a voice that was too close for comfort, begin to speak, "That's the way I like to eat my cookies, too."... I had screamed, I mean literally screamed, having been taken by complete surprise. How did he get behind my chair?... and I hadn't even heard a sound. It's a small cubicle, afterall, and he was actually standing in between the back of my chair and my desk, as I had my chair swiveled sideways. That sneaky bastard! It felt invasive, to say the least. And I had been caught. My secret was out. I liked to eat my cookies the way most folks like to eat their Oreo's... the creamy center first. So, as he stroked my hair, for one last time, I grabbed the new girl, with equally silken hair, and shoved her in his direction, "Here, I bequeth you this hair." All laughed. I was merely glad that I didn't have to endure the attention anymore.

More hugs from more people, some hugging way too long, tears in eyes. I hadn't wanted this big goodbye. I prefer small private goodbyes. I had given out little gifts, in spurts, over the last few days and exchanged email addresses and phone numbers, and given away my work place Bible... no, not the King James version... my home-made version, of the right way to do everything, from A-Z, sample copies included. I'd even held up a little book that I couldn't resist buying, and told my supervisor that this was for the rest who remained in their jobs, and that if they wanted to keep their jobs, I encouraged them to read it, entitled When To Speak Up and When To Shut Up. She had thought it uproarously funny and had ran around the office showing it to one and all. I was going out laughing. And I had shared, with them, that when one door closes, another one opens... and I felt Blessed that I had the opportunity to begin again, with cash in hand. And looked forward to what the future may hold. Scared... but elated.

I was only unkind just once. Gimme a break, I'm human, ok? And it was only after the bosses best friend had finally gotten on my last nerve, by asking me yet one more question on how to do something. I just simply said, "Ask Norma." Norma is the one who has been there for eons. And who still doesn't know how to do everything the right way. "Ask Norma?" Regina had asked, staring wide-eyed. "Yeah, go ask Norma," seemed the right thing to say. I had not one more tidbit to share. And they both knew what I was talkin' about. And no, she didn't get my office bible, though she had surely asked. Let her make her own, as I had. My own was now well hidden, deep in the dark bowels of someone else's unsuspecting file cabinet. Somewhere, deep inside of me, however, it doesn't feel as if the gifts and hugs will balance out the evil done from my withholding... somewhere, down the road, I will pay.

Earlier in the day I had rushed out the door to spend 10 minutes, before my next customer, at the bench near the little froggie pond. The bench had been moved further back, and the little pond was now so over grown with water flowers, that you could no longer see the water, much less a tiny frog. It was here, I had sat, when Tim had brought us lunch, and had placed the tiny diamond on my finger, beautiful antique-ish hand made setting, picked out from The Raven's Hoard. It was earlier in the day when I'd taken the picture frames down, from my cubicle, mom & pop, children and grands, me and my new love... and Tim's, for the very last time. It had been hard to take his picture down, as the 3 years had passed, since his death. I had merely moved it around, away from the eyes of those who might ask, "Oh, who is that in the picture playing the guitar?" ... or worse, "Does he still play the guitar?" Why anyone would even ask that question was beyond me. Why wouldn't he??? ... other than he might be dead! Even worse than that was the one who had asked, just weeks after his passing, as she had gazed up into his photograph, "Is he ok? I mean, is anything wrong with him, is he ok?" I just sat there, amazed. "Why? Why would you ask?" I had shared that he had died. But that he's ok now. She had shared that Jesus just sometimes tells her things, and she had felt compelled to ask.

As I made my way from Human Resources, for the fast 15 minutes of out-processing, turning in my employee identification badge, government computer access card, and the car sticker that had allowed me quick access onto the military installation, I felt a pang of sadness and a very strong draw to return to the froggie pond. I saw, in my mind, Tim... as he had walked through the office, greeted my fellow employees, as I had introduced each one... and I saw him sitting at my work cubicle, when I was still in Inbound. I felt the familiar sweetness of all the many emails, from him, that had filled my work place email box, but that had been deleted long ago, after my bully of a supervisor had threatened that she'd better not find anything in our email box that was not work related (though I'd seen her viewing her own forwarded emails, music and all). I saw Tim, on bended knee, at that bench near the pond, taking the ring from the box, looking up into my eyes, with loving intent, "Will you marry me, Sarah? Will you be my wife?" As I drew closer to the road, where I might turn to go there, I could not wipe that vision from my mind's eye. Nor the sound of those words from my head. "Will you marry me, Sarah? Will you be my wife?" In my vision, he never left his knee, as the question echoed 'round and 'round, over and over in my head. As much as I was pulled strongly to go there again, one last time, I knew that it was all over, and he was no longer there. It felt almost disloyal, to drive on by, leaving him on bended knee, but as much as I had wanted to turn right and then turn, again, left, and sit at that bench, one last time, and reply to his question... the most I could do was remember the feel of those last 10 minutes I had sat there, earlier in the day... when I had savored the aroma of warm pine straw on a sunny fall day... and enjoyed the feel of the wind slightly blowing, as it carried that sweet scent. I had felt all the emotions that come along with every fall season of any year... and remembered other past emotions associated with the aroma of pine needles, as they are basking in the sun. I refused to turn... instead, drove past the road that would have led me there. My head was saying, "You aren't there, anymore. You won't ever be here, again. You left me, you know... so, get up off your knee, it's time to move on."

I drove past the gate, small chokes in my throat. And felt so totally free. It is the Beginning of a New Era for me.

I met my new Babe at Nacho Mamas... swilled down a couple of wheat beers, as we ate guacamole and chips. I shared all these thoughts with him. As I shared those thoughts, at how elated I was that I never had to return to that place, and how fortunate I was for a chance at a fresh start, he said, "But, Baby, we're poor." I disagreed, and again using a false accent... this time, I threw in a little hillbilly... and related to him, in the truest sense of thought, "Baby, we ain't poor, 'cause we got love." In that I feel rich! I hope he understands just how important and how very real this day is for me. Afterall, it's not just the ending of my job... or the beginning of my new life... it's a really true start for WE.