Monday, August 30, 2010

Follow's not just for breakfast

A lot of you all have been asking about last week's little mishap in the hospital, what's wrong, etc. I wasn't trying to create some sort of dramatic build up before I spilled the beans.

I was in the Adirondacks 30 miles from the Canadian border catching fish, skinny dipping, making s'mores, telling bedtime stories and watching the sun come up over Saranac Lake while perched on a rock with my nightgown and my biker boots.

Tough life right? Yeah, well, I needed to get my head on straight after all the interesting news last week. I called my mother yesterday after we survived the 4-hour drive with two exhausted kids and two nicotine addicts, both of whom are hard-wired to be high strung, especially in tiny spaces.

"You sound relaxed," she said. "You sound like you had a good time."
"I did. I didn't have any choice."

And that is the truth. There was no running water at the cabin (which is only accessible by boat). There is a small sleeping space with bunk beds, a cot, and a full-sized bed. And there is a kitchen space with a wood stove (oven) a few shelves and a tiny table. And there is a screened in porch that overlooks the lake.

Guess where I slept despite the balmy 40-degree nights and the hard floor.

And yes, there is an outhouse. Really, in a place like this, there is no room for pretentiousness or worry. Life becomes very basic. Wake up, eat, explore the woods, get some lake water to scrub up, do some fishing, eat, run around, lay on a hammock, take the boat out, swim, nap by the crystal lake, hike, eat.

It was an enviable weekend. We lived on fluff sandwiches and Cream of Wheat and grapes (and, of course, coffee). Nothing serious, really. And any catastrophic thoughts I had were wiped away when a blue heron slid over the water, or when Lucian caught a bright Perch and screamed with delight, or when I fell asleep watching my feet sway in the hammock.

Only a few times, mostly at night when the loons and I were the only living creatures awake, did the anvil of reality break through the flawless glass of the weekend. Yes, there are things growing in me that shouldn't be there. The pain of them makes me wild at points, the not knowing even wilder. The meds seem to be devouring my insides.

But, I take comfort in the lake. In it's sparkling surface and moody water. Yeah, sure, there might be a couple hundred dead trees at its murky bottom, maybe even a dinosaur or two, but the surface is clean, and the fishing is good. And right now, that's all that matters.

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