White Owl Island

The First Step

I stood by the edge of the lake to catch my breath.  A man?  As I searched the horizon for answers, I remembered the glasses, and the image of that dark-haired man.  But how could that be?  Keiran’s barely gone and I’m getting involved with another man?  That made no sense.  I wasn’t ready; my kids weren’t ready.  I know I said I’d start a new film, but I had no intentions of making it an adventure.  And what next?  If I weren’t so squeamish about all the bacteria floating in the lake, I’d jump in and swim across, clothes and all.  I needed to move. Like a lab experiment gone wrong, so many conflicting thoughts churned within me, if I didn’t release them somehow soon, I knew I’d explode.  With swimming out of the question, running seemed my only option.  Walking just wasn’t fast enough.

I went back to my room to dig out my shoes and sweatpants.  As I laced up my shoes I realized the last time I wore them was just before Keiran died.  We used to run together four to five times a week.  And though I needed it for both physical and psychological therapy, I just couldn’t.  I tried once or twice, but I never made it out the door.  But I had to now.  I didn’t think about it; I just went – out the abbey and down the first road I saw, wiping my tears with my sleeve and working hard to breathe.  But the more I tried to compose myself, the harder I cried.  At one point I ran into the woods, leaned against a tree and just let go.  After a while I didn’t even know what exactly I was crying about – Keiran, the idea of replacing him, Prometheus’ sacrifice, Hecate’s change, all of it?  Until I settled my soul – or exhausted myself, my thoughts could not process, so I dampened my sleeves more and resumed my run, first at a jog and then as the tears subsided, much faster.  I kept going until my lungs burned and my legs cramped.  When I stopped I found myself just past the lake, near a clearing where purple wild flowers spotted the terrain.  Heedless of what lay under me I collapsed on the ground and waited for my breathing to regulate.  As I lay there, the afternoon sun added its healing warmth.  And although I still felt troubled, I knew the run served its purpose.  I released a good portion of the stress – at least for the time being, and now, perhaps, could think rationally about what lay ahead.

I realized during my run that what I probably needed to relinquish was my attachment to Keiran.  I could not bring him back.  I recognized, as well, that my holding onto what was did little to help my daughters with their recovery.  If anyone expected me to forget him altogether they were crazy, but I also knew if I expected to live the rest of my life in mourning, I’d go crazy.  I didn’t know how I “moved on,” but I suspected it was time I learned.