Home » Jazz Articles » Miles Ahead: A Jazz Road Trip » Part 10: Real Isn't the Same as Ready
Part 10: Real Isn't the Same as Ready
Courtesy Billie Eidson
Chapters
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18A drive from Oregon to Florida, to experience music and living across the USA, and ultimately join a jazz cruise. AKA, a listening practice, unfolding in real timewritten on the road, in the spaces between cities and notes.
Day Eighteen
Fort Lauderdale, FLThe Morning Before BoardingMorning light through the hotel shades. Suitcase open on the bed. The room quieter than usual.
Max is already at the pet lodge. The kind of quiet that follows a goodbye. No leash draped over the chair. No soft snore from the corner. No small shadow pacing while I pack. Just space.
Coffee. Calendar. Loose ends.
I send one last text about my next project. The lineup. Simple. Clean. Someone else for the chair.
The reply comes back almost immediately: "No problem. Lots of good options."
Just like that, the weight I'd been carrying dissolves. Funny how heavy things can live only in the heart. Not the world.
Stillthere's an ache underneath it. I think I kept hoping time might change something. Reflection. Therapy. Six months of distance. That he'd meet me differently this time. Show up steady. Reach back. Vulnerable. Say something. Simple. Grown.
Instead, the silence stays the same. Not dramatic. Just... unchanged. And that's when I know. Some people can visit vulnerability. Few can live there.
I miss the moments he softened. When his body relaxed. When trust flickered on like a porch light at dusk. Those moments were real. But real isn't the same as ready.
I zip the suitcase closed. The room echoes a little. My shoulders feel lighter than they have in months. Not because it didn't matter. Because it did. And I'm choosing rooms that feel easy now. Music that breathes. People who stay.
Outside, the air smells like salt. By tonight I'll be boarding a ship filled with musicians I've admired for yearsmentors, teachers, friends I haven't met yet. Instrument cases rolling down the dock like carry-ons. Charts tucked under arms. Everyone arriving with their own stories and songs.
My music. My people. My life widening. The ocean waiting.
Miles ahead.
To Be Continued / See Chapter List At Top
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Portland-based jazz vocalist and 25-year trial attorney completing her memoir, Miles Ahead: A Jazz Road Trip.
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