# Chapter 8: Mom, I'm Leaving A deep doubt started to weigh heavy inside my stomach. It was Anthony's birthday weekend and we were going to have a big party at his father's farm in New Jersey. Emily and Brian were driving down with me. It was another hot August weekend, but the sun shone brilliantly on the open acres of farmland as we drove through the Jersey countryside. The radiant greens and open blue sky resembled scenes of open roads from many a night's dream. The urban clutter of New York was now miles away. Emily and Brian were both privy to my plans for moving to California. But a bigger issue was now looming over me. > [!reflection] Growing Doubt > I began to think that I needed to go about my future alone, without Anthony. I was beginning to evolve and feel a determinate path for myself that was not willing to be compromised. I saw clearly a journey that was solely my own. Deep in my heart, I knew I had to sever the tightly strung knot Anthony and I had created over the past year. This knowing hurt—it hurt bad. I was again confronted with a paralyzing fear, but a different kind of fear than the one I met at the top of Peace Rock. This new fear harbored a deep sadness in it. I was afraid of hurting someone who I loved very much. --- ## Advice from Friends Emily leaned over the back seat, shouting over the windy buzz from the open windows: "You don't have to say anything right now. Wait until you go to your ten-day meditation and you both will be in a clearer state of mind. You got to do what's best for you, Mikey. If you feel you gotta leave alone, then you gotta leave alone." Then Brian sat up and leaned in between the front seats, shouting: "Yeah, bro. Anthony will understand. He loves you. If it doesn't feel right, then there's a reason you shouldn't." Their words tried soothing my worry, but the best I could do was push the issue to the back of my mind and keep it there until I was ready to fully trust my intuition urging me to go alone. --- ## Arrival at the Farm As we pulled up to the farm, dust rose from the tires and a handful of chickens scurried in a panic. The festivities had already begun. Anthony's father, Chris, was grilling burgers and dogs, arms were stretching into coolers of beer, and jovial conversation filled the air. I looked around, but Anthony was nowhere to be seen. Emily and Brian went to the secluded trampoline on the other side of the house. I went to greet a few relatives and friends before joining them. > [!note] Chris and the Farm > Chris had been leasing the farm for the past year. It had always been a dream of his to operate horse stables while owning a large lot of land on the rural countryside. At fifty years old, his dreams were finally starting to come to fruition. Chris was a generous man who always did his best for his children. When he separated from his wife nearly ten years ago, he would fly back and forth to Florida every other weekend to spend time with his kids. Anthony was the second oldest of three. I always admired Chris for putting so much effort and energy into his family. Despite being a sensitive father, he was the most obnoxious of my uncles. "Hey Michael, I got some nice red steaks cooking on the grill. You want one?" he asked with a menacing smirk, knowing full well I was a vegetarian. "Come on, Michael, you need iron. You look weak. Gotta get some red meat in you!" he continued. I smiled. "No thanks, Chris. No meat for me." My family was still somewhat shocked at the new vegetarian diet I recently adopted. My grandfather and his sons all grew up on a diet loaded with meats, breads, and cheeses. It was both the result of their Irish-Italian heritage and a good-ole American upbringing. Veggies were nearly excluded altogether, save for arugula salads or the occasional side of string beans to complement a steak. "Suit yourself. I got some chicken feed in the garage if you want some." Chris loved trying to get under my skin. But I was getting better at not succumbing to his banter. --- ## At the Stables "Where's Anthony?" I asked. "He took a ride to pick up the birthday cake. He should have been back by now," Chris answered. Anthony was notorious for being tardy, so I assumed he was just taking his time. I saw Emily and Brian laying on their backs, gazing into the dark green leaves hanging over the trampoline. It looked like they were sharing in an intimate conversation. I didn't want to disrupt their moment, so I decided to take a walk to the stables. A few horses were grazing on bales of hay in an open lot made for them to roam in. One looked big and mighty with a shiny black coat and chestnut-shaped eyes. It sensed my presence, lifted its mouth from the hay, and walked gingerly toward me. I ran my hand down his long face. The horse wagged its tail while snorting. I felt a moist breeze hit my hand as its eyes looked at me with undeniable intelligence. > [!thinking] On Connection > I wondered if it was happy on my uncle's farm. I wondered if this creature had the same desires, aspirations, and sufferings that I had. We shared the same existence on this earth, didn't we? We both grew by the sun, slept under the moon, and ate from the earth's bounty. We had inherited the same home, the same instincts for survival, and the same dependence on a beating heart, yet we were still worlds apart from one another. I looked straight at the horse's strong muscular shoulders, which protruded on both sides of its chest, and down at its enormous hooves pressing into the soft dirt beneath. It seemed indifferent to its circumstance—mildly ignorant of its captivity. Unfortunately, I didn't share the same contentment as the horse, confined by a perimeter of fences. A burning desire to break free from my family, my work, and my home began to tremor inside me. --- ## Grandma Arrives A cool gush blew through the farm. The sound of the breeze whistling in my ear snapped me back into the present moment. A smell of fresh manure rose from the ground and the sunlight flickered on the scarce patches of grass. Suddenly, I felt a warm sense of love and belonging emanating from the nature around me. The human-less farm oozed with serenity. Not a moment sooner, I heard my grandmother cry from a distance: "Mike! What are you doing over there?" She started walking toward me from the porch. "Looking at the horses," I yelled back. My grandmother wore these large round sunglasses she loved to wear when the sun was out. Her hair was a thick nest of red curls that made her appear fifteen years younger than her seventy-year-old skin. She was winded when she caught up with me. I saw her favorite digital camera dangle from her wrist. "Aren't these horses beautiful?" she exclaimed, walking over to pet the black beauty. "Come here, you're hungry, aren't you?" she spoke in her animal voice while petting the horse's large snout. > [!heart] Grandma's Love > I always admired my grandmother's ability to love animals unconditionally. She lit up each and every time she'd come across a species of life other than her own. Her backyard flourished with a vast myriad of botanicals. My grandmother loved animals and saw them all as God's creatures. But she didn't feel the same way about humans. Different races and ethnicities threatened her and my grandfather. If you weren't white-skinned or Catholic, then you were different. --- ## The Confession "So, what you doing, Mikey? You look like you're in deep thought about something." I was in deep thought. I was dreaming of the sun setting over the Pacific. I was dreaming of adventure—a backpack on my shoulders and weathered boots racking up miles of highway walking. I looked down at the dirt floor beneath me while conjuring up the courage to speak the truth to my grandmother. "I think I'm going to move to California soon." The corners of her lips curled down in an instant. The energy between us thickened as she continued gazing at the horse, not knowing what to say. > [!important] My Declaration > "I need to leave home. I'm not happy here working for Chris and Gerry. I feel surrounded by dead-end roads on Staten Island. I want to find work that I'm truly meant to do, that feels meaningful. I hate the tile business—it just isn't for me—and each week that passes I feel a deeper regret that I'm not following my heart sooner. The labor is draining and I shudder at the thought of doing it my whole life." There I was, twenty-three years old, telling my seventy-year-old grandmother, who raised me and took care of me my whole life, that I wanted to leave the comfort and protection of the home and family she worked so hard to uphold. "I'm not going to try and stop you," she said meekly, "but you don't need to travel 3,000 miles away from your family to 'grow up.'" "Yes, I do," the reply came out hastily. "I need space and I want to be close to the giant redwoods and pristine Pacific beaches. I want to experience a different culture, with different art. I want to meet new and inspiring people who don't think like us." "You can do all that in New York. New York has the biggest art culture in the world!" she pleaded. > [!quote] My Response > "You don't get it! Something in my heart is drawn toward the west coast. There is something spiritual I am looking for that I don't know how to express—a feeling of going on a journey, of being on an adventure—and it's California that is calling to me. Please... stop trying to stop me. All I want is your support!" "Fine. I don't know why you want to be so far away from us." Her last few words stumbled out shakily. Her eyes clenched behind her glasses, holding back a flood of tears. --- ## Understanding Her Fear "I love you, Mom... but I'm changing." I put my hand on her shoulder and gave the back of her neck a soft squeeze. I looked past the shaded lenses and into her defensive eyes. She was desperate to say something that would change my mind and confused why I wasn't like her sons who always chose to stay by her, who wanted families, and wanted to work stable jobs. Why was I the bird that wanted to fly from the nest into a dangerous uncertain world where she would have no power to protect me from injustice, no voice to warn me of oncoming storms, no way to feed me when I'm hungry, and no way to know where I was or if... I would come home. > [!heart] Reconciliation > My resistance toward her motherly concern softened and I grew sympathetic toward her sadness. I thought of how weak and helpless she may have felt thinking of me wandering the California roads alone—a fragment of her family detached, floating amiss in the vast ocean of the world. I hugged her tightly, pressing my chin into her hairy head. The familiar smell of her perfume brought me back to my childhood, and I felt like the little twelve-year-old boy I once was, hugging her with supreme admiration. I felt that way because I knew that's who she wished she was hugging in that moment. But I wasn't him anymore. I was changing and evolving—not only as Michael, but as a child of the universe, as a human with a unique purpose that I felt compelled to connect with. For the first time in my life, I was thinking for myself and listening intently to the divine voice in each and every moment, movement, and breath of life. "I'll be okay, Mom. Trust me, I need to do this. You'll see me again. I promise." "When are you trying to leave?" she asked. "Probably in the fall when I come back from the meditation retreat." --- ## At the Barn We both turned toward the barn and walked inside together. It was much cooler inside the barn and a few horses stuck their heads out into the center aisle. "Oh, I love this guy. His eyes are so round and his face is small for a horse," she said, captivated by the amber-colored steed named Jack. We spent the next half hour feeding the different horses and exploring the inner workings of the barn. We played with the baby goats, rabbits, and pigs, forgetting all about the dramatic conversation we had just a few moments ago. My grandmother looked so bright and joyful. It felt good to be by her side and let the lightness of the animals into our hearts. --- *Next: [[Ch 9 - Birthday Fireworks]]