Tuesday, January 19, 2016

The Story Before The Story

My story continues.

I will preface it with this.

In March 1981, when I first came to the Soviet Union and was studying for a semester in Moscow, our student group went on a trip to Vladimir and Suzdal (historical Russian towns) during the International Women’s Day holidays. On the bus going there, I happened to sit next to Alan, the Middlebury group leader. Both British ex-pats, we found we had something in common and chatted amicably. I already felt a deep bond with Russia by this time (although we had only been in Moscow for a month) and was entertaining thoughts of making it my home. I remember asking Alan if he knew of any Westerners who voluntarily came to live in Russia (then the Soviet Union) permanently. He said he had heard of such people, but they tended to “disappear into the woodwork.” Those were his very words. Something lit up inside me. I began conjuring up images of living in a little wooden house out in the Russian boonies and literally disappearing into the woodwork.


The house I am now living in is about 50 miles from Vladimir. I don't know about you, but I find this highly significant, magical even. Had I known back then that thirty-four years later I would be traveling to Vladimir again, the second time in my life, to look at the house being offered to us to live in, I would have been flabbergasted... Perhaps I did know at some level, but it was not for my conscious mind to fathom at the time. And now that it has come to pass, the pieces of my life are falling into place and forming a splendid interwoven tapestry. It is as though nothing was by chance, nothing was just some whim or fancy I dallied with, but part of a greater plan. The plan is still unfolding, and I do not know how it will end. I hope to reveal more as I continue to follow the mystery.

Krasnaya Ushna

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