and as much as i preach the uselessness of regret ... i have regret.
too much of it.
and i wanted to share one of my biggest regrets. something that makes me wish i had a time machine so that i could go back and change what happened.
i don't have a time machine (dammit) but i will take you back in time to when i was 17 ...
... i used to hang out at a used bookstore with my friend. we would find old records and take them home and listen to them while lying on the floor: joni mitchell, joan baez ... and we would search through the bookshelves to find hidden gems.
one day, i came across an old faded book of poetry by a woman i had never heard of.
libby oughton. everything about this book felt right to me. it felt like fate. the worn pages, the drawing on the front cover, the fact that she didn't use capital letters (like me) ... and then i turned the book over and in her little bio she mentioned that she was born at the same hospital that i had been born at, and was delivered by the same doctor! and that she lived in pei, which was my dream location. it was fate, or "divine providence, that's what" as rachel lind would have said.
so i bought the book for $2.75 and i took it home and read it. and then read it again. and again and again and again. i used the pages to write out my own poems. it became an extension of myself.
i bet you're wondering how this story is related to regret. i have to give you the background so that you can fully understand the regret that i still carry heavily in my heart ...
in my 3rd year of university, i took a feminist literature course. i was introduced to all sorts of incredible authors, and exciting and innovative ideas. i decided to write a paper about libby oughton and her poetry ... the professor read my outline and suggested that it would be a more interesting paper if i could actually interview libby oughton. and i thought to myself, well of course it would, but that will never happen ...
... it turned out that the professor knew someone who knew someone who knew libby oughton. and we were connected together over email by elly danica (WARNING: Elly Danica writes powerful words about childhood sexual abuse and incest and her writing can be triggering ... if you want to read more, click here for her incredible webpage). and i was able to interview libby over email. keep in mind, this was the 90s, and email was still fairly new. being able to connect with my favourite poet who lived in pei was absolutely incredible.
the interview was great, the paper got an A, and life was good.
over the next couple of years, libby and i emailed back and forth once in awhile. until i was in grad school and she emailed to tell me that she was going to be in the same city as my university overnight and did i want to meet for coffee ...
... you can't even begin to imagine my excitement, my joy ... my heart was leaping out of my chest. here was this poet and activist whose words had touched me so deeply for so many years, whose book i carried with me everywhere, whose words i read again and again ... and she wanted to meet ME! my roommate teased me that the 30 year age difference between us was irrelevant and that libby was going to take my back to her hotel room and we would have the most incredible night of passion ... but she didn't understand ... i wasn't in love with libby ... i was in love with her words, and i wanted nothing more than to be taken into her life as a friend, to have her as a mentor, to learn from her.
i spent hours finding the right outfit for the coffee date. it was going to be one of the most thrilling days of my life. here i was, ready to meet libby.
sweeping up the mess
it's time damn it
get out the broom
that's me
littering the floor and walls
there are my toes
now where are the nails
left toe right toe
this little piggy goes
this tendon needs attaching
something to stand on
are these my long leg bones
hips ribs backbone
my soft belly tender lips
breasts and all
the not-so-sturdy stuff
i spend the day sorting and piecing
me back together
shake out the broom
last search for my heart
find magic markers
draw a big brand new one
to pin to my sleeve
- libby oughton
the time finally came and i took the bus to second cup. and there she was in all her glory. she was beautiful. and kind. and interested. and encouraging. and i spent the entire time talking about how miserable i was. how much i hated the university. how much i hated my masters program. how much i hated the city i was living in. how i had no friends. how lonely i was. and each terrible thing i told her, she gave some piece of advice that i shot down. until she finally said that she had to go.
... and she walked out that door and i never heard from her again. ever. not a phone call, not an email. ever.
why? why couldn't i pull it together for one coffee date to say positive things? why couldn't i have just not talked about how miserable i was? why couldn't i have simply asked her questions about her life, her writing, her dogs, her publishing company, her children, her lovers ... why couldn't i have just been positive.
i wish that i could track her down and apologize. and explain. not that i really understand it myself. i think that i was so miserable and so depressed and so alone that i needed to tell someone. and she was there. and she was kind. and she was listening.
i have tried to find her in the world. i have tried emailing all sorts of people to try to find her. and no one seems to have any contact information for her.
dear readers, if you have an idea of how to find her, it is the one thing in my life that i actually could change. i can't go back in time and erase that terrible conversation ... but i could find her now and explain what happened. and i could make up for it. so if you know how to find her, you can use the contact box to the right of this post.
regret.
it is something we all have. it is something that can't be changed. we need to let go of these things that hold us down. we need to get out our brooms, and sweep ourselves up, and put ourselves back together. regret is also something that we can learn from. i keep trying to learn that lesson from my coffee date with libby oughton. i keep repeating it. i keep relearning and unlearning. and one day i hope that i will find a way to let it go.
xoxo
...
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