If I Ever Write . . .

"If I ever write the story of my life

Don't be surprised if you're where it begins"

Kim Williams, Marty Dodson & Danny Wells

I get my stitches out today.

The last time I had stitches, I missed my second class at Trapeze school in New York.  When I mentioned this to a friend recently, the detail shed a particularly awestruck light in my direction.  And, dashing off to lunch, I left a trail of "did you know that Ashley..." in my wake.

There was a time when that was my life.  From trapeze school in New York to moonlit swims in the Berkshires, I kept the days between adventures down to something I could manage with two hands.

But that hasn't always been the case.

There was also a time when I tuned that world out.  A time that sweet Jessica began to call me Edie.  A time when I wondered who my real friends were.  A time when I learned the answer to that question.  "The gift of desperation," as I heard Doctor Eben Alexander refer to it recently, was my cocoon.  

But as it turns out, I'm a pretty tough cookie.  So I finally opened the drapes, washed the grey out of my hair, and booked a flight or two.  I was back.  Wasn't I?

Jill Rogers once taught me something that I've never forgotten.  She taught me that when someone is so lost that you don't even recognize them, the most loving thing that you can say is "you've forgotten who you are.  But I will remember for you.  Until you can remember again, I will remember for you."

I didn't even know that I had forgotten.

I was traveling.  I was making new, albeit more carefully vetted, friends.  I was cooking.  And I was writing.  And I had no idea that I was doing all of those things in shades of black and white.  Until a tall, devastatingly handsome, and exquisitely costumed man walked into the District and through the door... and remembered for me.

"Who is this creature!?!"

he exclaimed.

And just like that, I began to remember again.  If I ever write the story of my life, don't be surprised... if he is where it begins.