Shades of Curiosity

Question marks, regrettably, don't come in shades of grey. 

If they did, I could have used some intermediate shades to suggest more nuanced questions.

Do you love me? Do you crave an apple?

Does this dress suit me? My eyes, do they?

Do we end our journey here? Will tomorrow bring rain? 

Can dreams be trusted? Is the future set in stone? 

Will the sun rise as promised?

Do shadows keep secrets? Is there truth in silence?

Can hearts heal with time? Does God exist?

Are answers but illusions? 

Is wisdom gained through journey?

Do we find clarity in our wanderings?

Or do we find it in the echoes of our silence?

 

Rebuilding 

 

Have you ever thought what happens when you break a spider's web? Does the spider cry a little? Or does it immediately file a complaint with a spider association, responsible for punishing humans accused of such heinous acts?

Does anyone host it until it gathers its strength and overcomes the emotional devastation caused by the destruction of its life's work (or a few days')?

Or is it secretly happy because it was too trapped in its own web, and now (maybe even with help from the spider association) it has the chance to practice its craft and build an even bigger and more beautiful web?

I wonder.

The Quiet Moments 

 

If morning is a promise of light, if they are right, 

I should be quite well-positioned, no fight.

I have my coffee in the cup, something jazz, and maybe something to write. 

A black cat curls by me, searching for the might.

In this hour, all feels right.

The fireplace, a cozy glow, pages turn softly, words start to flow. 

I water the flowers, tranquility begins to grow. 

The time is quiet, the heart feels bright

In this moment, I listen to the light. 

 

I've taken my vitamins, but I havent's said my prayers.  

The Jazz of Life

 

The Jazz of Life 

Blue notes blend with grace.

Echoes linger, finding space.

Secrets reside,  

where fleeting moments hide.

In every glimpse, a story spins.

The jazz of life, our journey begins 

A world without a face

Between my 3 years old son, my day job as an assistant professor at University, my evening job as a software developer, and my night job writing my Ph.D. dissertation, life is quite busy, and I don’t have too much time for existential questions.

I read the “Capital” newspaper while having my strong first coffee of the day. There is an ad “Nokia is looking for software engineers, specialized in distributed systems and object-oriented programming. Interviews in Bucharest in March”.  I am studying distributed systems for my Ph.D. thesis, teaching object-oriented programming courses during the day, and coding in C++ during the evenings.

I turn to my husband and say, “hey, these guys are looking for me.” He quickly looks at the ad and answers, “you need to apply immediately.”

I joked. It was a joke.

But he was serious.

1^st of October that year, 10 days after I turned 30, I was standing in the airport in Helsinki. I am waiting for my luggage to arrive.

The belt is moving slowly, empty. I like the airport’s buzz, and hearing the people’s voices surrounding me, it’s lively. Then I notice something that feels odd. There is no buzzing. I look around, and all the people are still there. I do not understand what is happening. Are they talking, and I can’t hear? Am I having a stroke or something? 

And then I know. 

This is Finland, the country I am just moving in, the world I don't recognize, the world without a face. Life with the sounds and all I knew before is gone. I’ll need to learn to listen to silence. 

Will I ever find home?

The phone rings. It’s on the table, screen down, and I can’t see who’s calling.

We are having lunch on a terrace in Crete. Petteri booked this vacation for us to celebrate my new job. My company announced a few weeks ago that the branch in Finland is closing and all the thousands of employees have been laid off. Given the job market situation in Finland, it was quite unexpected that I landed a new job in two weeks, and not any kind of job, but a VP position at a tech company.

“Don’t you want to see who’s calling?” Petteri asks.

I picked up the phone. My heart jumps. The caller is my former manager.  I move away from the terrace to answer. They are offering me a job at the US headquarters. I will need to relocate by the end of the summer.

“You said what??” Petteri seems to be upset.

“I said I will think it over.”

“What do you have to think over? You’ve got a great job waiting for you at home. It’s not like you need a job.”

“I know.”

“How about your kids? Mihai is supposed to start college in the fall. Antonia, she is just about to end middle school, and she will not want to move away from Finland and her friends.”

“I know.”

“You love your life. You are happy. Aren’t you? You can't be serious about considering the offer? Let’s forget about this, enjoy the last few days of vacation and when we get back home, you call them and say thank you, but no.”

I’m trying to concentrate. He is right. I know he is right. I still don’t understand why I didn’t decline the offer on the spot. There is no way I will move, so why leave this theoretical possibility open. It’s just pride. Why is Petteri so anxious? We should order a bottle of champagne and celebrate how lucky we are.

Instead, I hear myself saying, “I’m not feeling at home in Finland.”  Where did this come from?

“What do you mean? Do you still think of Romania as your home? And what does this have to do with anything? Wouldn’t moving to the US mean you move even further away from home? Pause. “And how about us?”

I can’t answer that. 

I can’t just decline the offer. I need to give it fair consideration. Maybe Antonia will not want to move, maybe we can’t figure out a way for Mihai’s college education, maybe this job in the US doesn’t make any sense, maybe I don’t want to live so far away, there are so many maybes and so many fears. The only certain thing is that Finland is not home. Romania is not home anymore, either. What difference then it makes if I’ll move to the US? 

Solo travel and the book

When I turned 49, I decided it was time to gift myself a trip to Hawaii.

At that point, I’ve been a “divorced woman,” “single mom,” and “household head” for a while. I was used to being “solo” at home. I have been traveling around the globe by myself on business trips. I liked the freedom of traveling alone. I have traveled on vacations with only the kids to new places across different countries for many years now and enjoyed it. I never felt out of place because I was not with a man by my side.

Still, until the age of 49, I have never traveled solo for pleasure. 

--

I love Honolulu. The hotel has a lovely terrace restaurant next to the pool. I put on the turquoise dress I bought in Greece a few years ago and took my book.

-          A table for how many, mam?

-          Table for one. 

     I smile. I feel so free and happy.  

-          Just for one?

     The young hostess looks confused.

-          Yes, just for myself.

-          Okay, don’t worry, I will find you a good one.

I was not worried. Should I have been?

She takes me to a table somehow in the corner with a splendid view. Gets the sit for me.

-          Here, she says. We will take good care of you.

     This is nice. I have never had such a kind hostess. But somehow, she acts like she is taking care of an invalid. Or am  I imagining it?  

-          What would you like to order? A cocktail or a glass of wine to start?

     Ok, it starts to feel normal.

-          A glass of Pinot Gris, please.

I relax on the chair and start to look around. The restaurant is not very busy yet. Some couples and families with kids. A pleasant atmosphere. Soon will be sunset, and I will have a perfect view from my table to enjoy. I am not taking my book out yet.

    In just a quick moment, the waitress comes with the Pinot Gris. Wow, this is fast service!

-          Here is your wine, mam.  

    The waitress is closer to my age. She smiles. I smile back.

 -          Are you all right, mam? Is there something we can do for you to help you be comfortable?

It’s my turn to be confused. I am very comfortable. Don’t I look relaxed?

 -          I am just fine, thank you for asking. I can order now.

When she comes over with the food, the feeling that there is something I don’t quite understand becomes stronger. She puts her hand on my shoulder. I’m getting uneasy.

-          If there is anything we can do for you, anything at all, just let me know. I’ll be coming to check on you often.

-          Thank you, you are very kind indeed. I am perfectly fine; it is a wonderful evening, and the food looks delicious.

As she leaves, I open my book on the table. I can see her looking back at me. She notices my book, smiles back, and nods approvingly.

I figured it out by the end of the trip. A single woman (my age??) having dinner in a restaurant in Hawaii is unusual. With the book by my side, I became socially acceptable.

Back in Seattle, I’m still wondering if I somehow missed the clues all these years. I chose an Italian restaurant close to home to go out for dinner. Nobody cared if I had a book or not. Thank God!