Ever have this feeling like time has somehow played a trick on you as you march to your drumbeat, sometimes forward, sometimes in place, but when you look around, nothing has changed? And then, you find some photos of the before and now, and it is a shock to see life has indeed happened when you were busy doing what you planned.
For nine years, I have shared a two-office suite with a friend and colleague, who took that scary leap into the unknown with me. We left established, well-paying careers in the same company to begin a LPAA private practice. For months before, we met to talk about our vision, our ideas about what such a practice could be. We began on a shoestring, and while maybe we have laced up that shoe since then, we still wonder each month if we will make it to the next. But we have never, never wondered if we did the right thing.
In these nine years, we have shared so much together, in and out of the office. I can see so much growth in our ability to understand the nature of our work, to embrace it, to take emotional risk in connection and be rewarded with the knowledge that it is good.
Relationship and reflection. It happens not only with our clients, but with each other. I have become so used to it, that it is a shock to realize now that a good deal of what we have will be changing.
Marilyn is moving to Asheville, NC. So now, it will be known for its wonderful food, the beautiful land, city lights, and one of the best aphasia therapists in the country.
Speaking of Aphasia will continue; Marilyn and I will collaborate on materials, presentations, and the constant evolution of our practice. But I will no longer have the luxury of flopping into the chair in her office to ask a question, tell her a funny story, ask her opinion. Will we age differently when we are not together? Will I feel, as I do already, that something is missing? We used to joke about people confusing our names, so joined at the hip were we in the world of aphasia. Now, I wonder, who will we be without the other?