island living

I sit cross-legged in a wide field of green grass, overlooking the port where Ferries bring in tourists by the hundreds. Taxi cabs made of horse and trailer bring people here and there, while one-speed bicycles with baskets are the new Mercedes.

I’ve driven over the Mackinac Bridge more times than I can count, but I’ve never been to its aptly named island. This is a place constructed for tourists, not natives, like you’d never see New Yorkers marvel at its skyscrapers, or Parisians drop jaw at sight of the Eiffel Tower. That doesn’t rob her of her beauty; it’s just different.

In a way, this island links my past and present. She lies in limbo of the two signature places I’ve called home, but is completely other.

The tulips are in bloom, proudly displaying their amazing colors with passersby. The skies are clear and the sun lends its heat, while mansions line the streets, standing tall with proud heritage and boasting of its elegance. We are surrounded by water, and it is beautiful.

We often struggle relating past and present, but today, in this field, they seem to collide. Three hours to the east, in my hometown, grew a boy haunted with insecurity, tight religion and anger. There is so much in our lives we wish to take back, but our efforts prove futile. Our pasts are as much a part of us as our DNA.

Three hours to the southwest, in the mirror, I see a new man, though the roots of youth are the weeds of life. I brought along a journal I penned three years ago (and stopped two years and ten months ago), and shuffled through its pages, ridden with anxiety, doubt and fear, but ultimately hope. We were made for more.

I thought I would marry a particular girl on this island, and after that dream dissolved and faded away, on many treks over the bridge, I would look toward the island and imagine how different life would be had that been the path.

To be completely unoriginal, the road taken instead, "Has made all the difference.”

I take rest knowing something completely “Other” has bridged our past, is present, and has paved a promised future for those who travel there.

He is the same yesterday, today and forever; a safe haven from fierce storms and life's blizzards. In a way, His “Otherness” is much like this; for in Him we are finally free to slow down, walk slowly, breathe fully, and listen more attentively to The Way.