I hope I don’t write so much about our cottage in Maine that you get sick of it. The truth is, there are very few times that I don’t feel grateful that we still have it available to us nor that I don’t learn something from nearly every visit. It was no different this past weekend, when Angelo and I ended up taking an unexpected quick trip up. Not for anything in particular, although I was going to catch up with friends and see one’s new cottage. Pretty unexciting stuff, which is exactly what I needed after the tumult of the last few months.
Even the weather cooperated; we planned to head up after my Thursday classes and checking the forecast in the days before showed lots of cloud, raindrop and lightning icons. But that’s okay, we like it that way…that’s what we always say to ourselves when the thing that just happened isn’t at all the way we planned or expected. It’s our strategy for not being disappointed and enjoying the moment. For example, say the service at a restaurant was terrible this time—that’s okay, we like it that way. It gives us more time to enjoy our evening out. Get it? So, rain? No problem. We like it that way. And, honestly, what else were we going to do? Not go?
Turns out, Friday dawned cloudy, but the sun broke through and we took a nice long walk while the weather was with us. Still preparing for more showers and rain, we ignored the few chores we were considering, but Saturday ruined that plan, too. Angelo ended up painting our tool shed after it had been moved earlier in the spring. I had a little schoolwork to catch up on and by Saturday afternoon, that was completed. We decided to go off the island on Sunday for lunch and errands, but otherwise, it was a pretty uneventful trip. It was so boring I can’t believe you’re still reading this.
When we got back on Sunday afternoon, the sun was still shining, although the wind had picked up. During our outing, I bought a bottle of Prosecco to toast my friend’s new cottage. It was on the same side of the island as ours . . . facing west and the never-ending glorious sunsets over the White mountains. So, naturally I had to join her in a sunset toast. Angelo drove us over there, but left after the toast to head back to the cottage. I said I’d call him for a ride back and my friend said she could drive me back, too. Lots of options.
Instead, after the toasts, the catching up, and the tour of her cottage, I decided to walk back home. It wasn’t late—only about 7:30pm—and I didn’t have that far to walk, less than a mile. My friend insisted that she could drive and I insisted right back that I was okay. I wanted to walk. The dark didn’t scare me . . . although nothing can spook me better than my own imagination. Still, I was fine. I texted Angelo and let him know I was headed back.
It was SO dark! I turned on the flashlight app on my phone, but it only illuminated a few steps in front of me. The roads on the island are dirt; there are no paved roads. At this time of the year, all the renters have gone and only those residents who live here all season are here—there are very few cottages lit up. The trees are tall and provide a canopy of shade in the hot sun of the summer, but block out any light from the sky at night. Suddenly, my imagination started suggesting that, in the darkness, there might be wild animals watching me. I swung my phone around to the left and right, but all I could see was more darkness.
I told my imagination to mind its business and start working on a chapter of my book and decided that the wild animals were probably all at home asleep. As I walked with my cell phone flashlight in hand, I was reminded of the E. L. Doctorow quote I always use about writing, but in this case it was spot on: “ . . .it's like driving a car at night. You never see further than your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.” Perfectly specific, the thought gave me comfort as I continued on.
Being out on that road in the dark, with my imagination otherwise occupied, was about as peaceful as I’ve been in months…if not years. At that moment, I was safe, my family was safe, there were no immediate crises at hand, I had just enjoyed the loving support of an old friend and I was walking back to a cottage where, hopefully, Angelo had dinner waiting for me. (It was.) I was fine. It took literally blocking out all other noises and sounds to allow me to simply be in the moment of knowing who I am and being confident in my abilities. I’m not sure I need to go walking around in the dark all the time to access that part of myself, but it’s good to know it’s there when I need it.
I love this! Very comforting. A trust walk. I thought you were going to shut the light and allow your eyes(imagination) to adjust. I guess it is too late in the season for my walking-in-the-dark favorite thing: fireflies. 💕