Recently, on a trip to Asheville, I was accosted by a woman who wanted me to purchase her books on Yoga. Wait – that’s not entirely accurate. She insisted I take one for a small donation. I truly had no cash, explained I was a tourist and that I was on my way to lunch. “Oh! I’m a tourist, too – a spiritual tourist!” she chirped. A spiritual tourist. Yeah, okay. Moving right along.
Much to my chagrin, over this past weekend, her words rang back to me and I discovered that I, too, am a spiritual tourist. “Let me ‘splain…no, no time to ‘splain: let me sum up.”
I woke this morning feeling sentimental about my old house in Ossining, NY, and heavy-hearted, missing my mother. I have not seen my mother in over 39 years, so when I miss her, it usually means something big is playing out in my life or is about to play out in my life. The awakening was preceded by detailed dreams about visiting colleges with my daughter, Clarke. These dreams may have been triggered by a recent visit to Oxford England where many families were touring the University during “open days” as I was visiting as a tourist. (That is, an actual tourist, not a spiritual one.) Or it could be that I am dreaming about visiting colleges as it is Clarke’s junior year in high school and some time during the spring, we are going to have to do just that.
No matter what the trigger, when I opened my eyes this morning, I went first to check on Clarke because she had been complaining of an ear ache last night. I gingerly touched her forehead with my hand, and tried not to wake her. I’m not exactly sure why I thought I would not wake her, because she has always startled if touched when asleep. She did in fact startle and let me know her ear kept her up a good bit during the night. She weakly requested to visit a doctor, so I got dressed immediately.
We piled silently into the car and started for the Urgent Care. On the way there, she put on some of her music, which I usually abide because it lets me into her teenage life just a little. That’s when the Magical Mystery Tour rolled up to the first stop.
I found myself standing as a teenager in Montaldo’s Boutique in Greensboro, NC with my sister, shopping for her wedding dress. All during the day my ear was increasingly more annoying and I therefore kept bothering it back. By the time evening fell, I was in some pain. I downstairs and interrupted the 11:00 evening news to tell my dad I needed to go to the emergency room. It had become impertive that I get the invisible ice pick that was persistently jabbing my right ear drum removed at once.
If my daughter’s pain was a fraction of what I recalled from that night, she was surely suffering. Her silence told me all I needed to know and my heart crumbled. A few empathetic tears snuck down my cheeks, but before I could truly enjoy this sentimental stop, the tour bus careened around a corner screeching to a halt at the doorstep of my Ossining home.
At this stop, I recalled a time when my next oldest sibling had gone off to kindergarten. I was finally going to have my mom all to myself while my three brothers and sisters went to school. These were supposed to be happy days for me, but they turned into seeds of anxiety. Most days, once I was fed, Mom let me watch TV while she disappeared somewhere upstairs in our split level home. I watched myself as a 4 year old girl, wandering around the upstairs looking for my mother. I called and called for her and she did not answer. When she eventually re-appeared at the top of the stairs, I was dissolved in tears. That brief time of feeling lost in my own home left me scared and much in need of her presence and comfort.
BANG! The Spiritual Tour was nearing a close as I arrived at my final destination: Gratitude.
During those days of needing hugs, kisses, comfort or the actual presence of my mother, I was building the deep desire to be available to my family. Now, every time I offer them something as simple as an aspirin or quiet company when they are down, it is both a gift to them and a gift to me. I am grateful to be here and to be a constant source of love for them.
Next on the tour: Baggage Claim!