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  • Writer's pictureA.S. Morris

Wayfare Green

When I sit down to write there is usually a thing, a theme, an event that prompted the post. Even if that particular concept is absent from my writing, it was the catalyst. You may wonder what could possibly be off limits for someone who writes about such deeply personal stuff; typically its things that directly involve other people or my professional life. Those topics are more for private journaling. While perhaps there are pearls of wisdom peppered throughout those musings, they are for me alone or occasionally shared with those closest to me. The platform I used to write allows for private and public sharing, which is helpful for me to keep my entire journey in one place. While I am a sucker for a sexy leather bound journal, I have the penmanship of an ape and ultimately end up doodling or writing random thoughts. Which is guess a blog ultimately is, a series of random thoughts, tied together solely by one author.


When I decided to formalize my blogging, I tried to come up with a clever name. While “Wayfare Green” is not exactly oozing with drama or creativity, it captured what I needed. To this day, I have never considered change that name. If you were to search the meaning of “wayfare,” you will find that its archaic and means travel or journey and has not really be a part of the English language since the 1800’s. The word “wayfare,” is not even eligible for scrabble however, would be worth 16 points. Far from archaic or creativity, green simple means green, the color.


Well, why “wayfare green?” The cover photo for my blog is from the top of Crabtree Falls in the Blue Ridge Mountains. I took this photo while on a solo hike in the fall of 2019, a few days before my world forever changed. A hike that for many reasons, which someday I will share, lead to a conversation with a friend that forced me to get help. Was it ugly? Yes. Did I need it? Yes. Is it a miracle this friend still likes me? Absolutely. I have my enduring moments, which make up for when I am being a pain in the ass and causing unnecessary stress.


I went on that hike because I was in the midst of family leave trying to care for my husband and son who were both facing their own respective health crises. I arranged care for both of them and set off to spend a day trying to focus on my own needs. While I have come to love the mountains, they are not a place I would go to find solitude or peace, for me that place is water. I picked a trail centered on water, tonal therapy if you will. I remember when I got to the top of the falls, how green the treetops were, that last bit of chlorophyll, knowing their autumnal colors were about to make their debut. It was also at that moment I realized it was too little too late. That hike, while a moment that set off one hell of chain reaction, was ultimately the start of this wayfare. I just did not know it at that time.


It has been two and a half years, which is so hard to comprehend. Yes, yes, I am fully aware we have been dealing with a pandemic. I still struggle with the frustrations on why I still struggle. Patience is not my strongest virtue and recently I have been wondering what happens if I get to that place ever again. I am fully aware of the statistics and that they are stacked against me. However, as I am a woman, there are many things stacked against me simply for having a uterus. I take statistics with a grain a salt. I personally had an extremely traumatic experience where I received care initially. I used my 15 years of healthcare experience in my favor and got the hell out of dodge as fast as I could. This was ultimately a poor life decision, literally however, I know I cannot receive care at this same facility for this need. This scares me. What happens if there is a crisis?


I think I have recently been on this spin as my professional work charges me with removing barriers to care, in all sorts of ways for all sorts of patients. As I am working on trying to centralizing access and streamline processes while ensuring white glove service, part of me is hyper-focused on my experiences. Which is some ways is beneficial, in other ways it creates a challenging environment. This cannot be a one-man band and yes sometimes you have to care more than everyone else does, it is also a little bit exhausting. I am no stranger to having a job that is dependent on creating and fostering a supportive culture. However, there are times when I wonder am I still the right gal for the job. Do I still have it in me? Am I generating enough connect to purpose to feed my soul and ignite the drive in others? All while doing the other tedious stuff that comes with work. The boring stuff. Because policies say so stuff.


I am currently working remotely while on spring break with my children. Tonight I am writing while sitting on the deck, listening to the surf wash up on shore while two osprey squawk at anyone who comes near their nest. Enjoying a quiet night on the river, surveying the various waterside towns that pepper the Rappahannock River and Mobjack Bay. Perhaps the waters know I am in need of this stillness; my children certainly do not as I have been watching their shenanigan's throughout the afternoon. One is actively digging a hole to the other side of the earth, the other is about to be pushed in the hole by her brother. Secretly, she kind of deserves it.


They say saltwater heals everything, perhaps this week I'll see how true that is.



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