Clandestine Confessions

“Oh no no no….this cannot be happening.”
My car, still only equipped for the east coast weather, stopped on an incline.
The heavily snow-coated streets on that early March evening, plowed only an hour before, an unfair component against my tires.
How could something so delicate, so peaceful have the power to wreak such havoc?
Vehicles were front of me, beside me, behind me – one of those currently being pushed off the road by a group of teenage boys.
5 seconds ago I drove past that scene giving gratitude it was not me.
And here I sat.
“Come on little buddy! Do not fail me now!”
I pushed aside the anxiety – no need to worry about what I have overcome before.
But could not shake the anger…
Over the ominous memory projecting itself into the forefront of my mind – the one of that aforementioned “before”.
–
February 2021.
I was driving back to my uncle’s house from his house in the early morning hours – mandatory to leave before I was spotted.
Forced into invisibility by the same person who promised to “always see” me…oh the irony…
As I was trying to turn around in a neighborhood upon realizing there was absolutely no way of getting my car up my uncle’s steep driveway, my car seized to move any further on the unplowed road.
I immediately called him.
“Oh no…well let me know when you get out safely.”
And then he hung up.
Ask me when I knew it was the beginning of the end…
“You are on your own now, J,” I said to myself. Knowing full well the truth of that statement seeped further than rescuing my car.
To rescue myself was now officially a solo mission.
And being in Park City for a concert two years later was part of the operation…
–
I hit the pedal hard – and moved an inch. I did it again – another inch.
I had two goals: 1) do everything in my power to not slide down this street and 2) travel a mere two feet to the entrance to a spot for public parking.
Not my original destination but the safest one.
I was already pushing my luck, and I would rather walk an extra mile then get stuck.
Mind you, I had knowingly ignored all the warning signs (literal signs telling me to turn around) while driving through the canyon.
As if the 2021 version of me had not learned blatantly disregarding what your being told is unsafe is a catastrophic idea…
–
Little by little my car eventually made it to flat surface, but my relief collided with the reality I was going to need to get out of here…under conditions that were only worsening through the night.
And require a downhill drive through a canyon.
Do I call it quits now and just count the $140 ticket as a loss? (An option that did NOT sit well with my Scottish blood).
Or do I see this through?
The latter ultimately asking a much bigger question…how far am I willing to go to heal my heart?
I knew while staring out the Starbucks window at the rapidly falling snow, accumulation growing quicker than I have ever seen, that this would fall under the category of “J’s more unwise life decisions”.
But I also knew I was only going to have one shot at this – the ability to live out this specific dream on my own I had once planned with another.
And to prove to myself that I was going to be very much okay…
–
I pulled into a parking spot, turned off my car, and began the trek to the venue.
To my emotions begging for closure, it was really the only option.
And worst-case scenario, I would sleep in my car – for a $1000 hotel room was not in my budget (mind you, I was in Park City in the peak of winter with the greatest snowfall seen in decades…).
–
I was enamored by the town’s transformation into a magical winter wonderland.
Main Street an image straight out of a Hallmark movie.
I tried to not allow the nagging thoughts of doom regarding the drive home take away from the beauty of what I was experiencing.
I watched as the snow got more intense by the minute.
And I felt as the memories followed suit…
–
On my quest to find the venue, I inevitably found the restaurant my friend and I dined at the previous February.
Exactly a year from the day of the car incident – redemption one of the greatest gifts to the human experience.
It was also the same day I revealed to him my plan to move to Utah.
A secret only he knew for some time.
My mind had spent the drive here replaying that moment, knowing the exact spot those words were released from my lips while eating our pre-dinner cookies.
The light of the moon against the mountains making for the most picturesque scene that night.
I could not hold back the tears. Their warmth, although short lived, a stark contrast to the frigidness of the snow hitting my skin.
How beautifully life has unfolded in the past 12 months. And 24 months…
–
The restaurant was next door to one of the many art galleries we visited back in August 2021.
That particular one I will always remember most because it was outside of it the first mention of the restaurant took place.
“My friend is a chef at a place nearby.”
“What is the name of it?” I asked.
“Firewood. It is somewhere on this street,” he said while scanning left and right.
I looked up to see the sign right above him.
“I think you found it.”
“Ha. Well now I know. Will have to go try it out sometime soon.”
This would happen again on that February night – near identical situation.
“I am sure it is around here somewhere,” he said as we were walking from the bar, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk to look for it.
The time was running out before our reservation.
I pointed up.
“I really am not this dumb and unobservant,” he joked.
“That thought would never even cross my mind,” I said with a smile.
But the memory of him from that previous summer tripping over a very noticeable, large rock before naming for me all the peaks did.
“There is a rock there,” I joked.
“Yeah…see that now. Unfortunately, my toe saw it first.”
I let out a little laugh as the scene replayed in my head and heart.
It will be the fourth instance I will have to start questioning…
–
“Excuse me, miss,” a man stepped out of the art gallery. “Please come inside. It is warm and dry in here.”
I looked down at my soaking wet jacket, the melted snow saturating my hair, droplets dripping onto the ground below me.
It appeared as if I stepped fully dressed into the shower.
And yet this man was welcoming me into a place with $100,000 artwork.
I accepted his invitation, but with the sole purpose to ask him where this venue was.
(Come to find out soon it was underground which explains me walking up and down the street in utter confusion for far too long).
But he had another motive – a divinely imparted one.
“I think you will really enjoy this particular piece,” he said immediately upon me entering, directing me a few feet right of the door.
It was covered in butterflies…
“You would be very correct in that assumption,” I glanced his way with a smile and then fixated my eyes back on the art.
He perceived that as his queue to return to his desk.
While I continued to stand there unable to look away at this little wink from God.
–
I was ready to heal.
It was time.