Like many writers, I tend to write about a theme reflecting what is going on in my life at the moment. Finding the theme is not difficult; fitting it into a title that follows our Abecedarium can be. Trish often helps me find the word or phrase to title these essays and we were talking about this “Q” essay this morning. “How about Quixotic?” she asked me. I made a face and said, “You really think my writing—and thus my life—is an idyllic and ultimately unsuccessful quest?” She quickly backtracked and said she must misunderstand what “quixotic” means. Although she’s is among the most erudite people I know, I chose to believe her. We did agree, though, that “idyllic” is not a bad way to describe this past week. However, since we are well past “I” in our Abecedarium, I have opted for the word “Quiet”.
That thought came to me a few nights ago as I sat on the boat dock where we were visiting, watching the sun start to set across this quiet lake in Wisconsin. The wind rippling the water all day had died down as we approached sunset and the water looked like glass. When a breeze did kick up, sending waves along the surface of the lake, the angle of the sun created what Trish calls “water diamonds”—endless sparkles, like cascading diamonds. A gull flew overhead; fish jumped; a loon was floating on the surface fishing for dinner. I was by myself just then and my heart just sang. I hadn’t felt that peaceful in ages.
We both needed a bit of a recharge. This last year has been more stressful than two retired people should have to endure. You all know about the renovations on the house and the meltdowns THAT precipitated. But there were other issues that, in sum, led to the two of us needing something of a reset. We just didn’t feel like ourselves. Even Trish’s annual week up in the Poconos with her long time best friend was not restorative. We had high hopes for this week in the Midwest.
Our hosts, Lori and Jeff, could not have been more generous. They moved out to Wisconsin a couple of years ago, once Lori retired, to be closer to family and a climate that is more like home to them. They found this incredible house on a rural lake in a town that is just big enough to have most services that one needs yet small enough to keep the lake from being overrun. They have their own dock; a pontoon boat; a couple of kayaks; and a pair of resident hummingbirds that were feeding all day every day to prepare for their migration south. The first night we were there, they took us out on the boat and almost immediately a bald eagle flew right over us, landing in a nearby dead tree. A good omen if there even was one.
I’ve known Lori for over thirty years and we have a comfort level with each other borne from time and experience. When I still lived in the Valley, we had a great “First Friday” tradition—a standing date to go out the first Friday of the month. We didn’t always make it, but it was always on the calendar. We were particularly regular during the spring and summer months when Bethlehem would host “First Friday” events with dinner and drink specials and live music all over town. What I remember most are those martinis at Loopers. I know we must have talked about the kinds of things that deepen a friendship, but after the first half of a martini, my memory goes fuzzy. We have traveled together, spending the better part of a week together in Aruba. We were at each other’s weddings. Since she’s moved, we’ve transitioned to monthly Facetime calls. Our friendship is time-tested and has weathered some serious highs and lows over the decades, as all long term friendships do. They say people come into your life for a reason, a season, or life. Lori is a lifer for me.
The four of us have done dinners and nights out, but never concentrated time like this planned week. All four of us REALLY wanted it to go well, to the point that we were too afraid each couple was overcompensating. And, yes, I did pick up one check too many. While I know I crossed a line (and apologized), I also know my Dad would have approved. There was no need to worry. The time together was seamless. They took us out on the boat in the evenings, just to tootle around and talk. We had a fine Saturday when we enjoyed a 90 degree summer day on the lake complete with floating in the water (I actually got IN the lake), conversation, and quiet time when we all read and Trish, of course, took a nap. Perfect day! We went out on the kayaks and saw four (maybe five) different bald eagles and two nests; a turtle; a snake. And the loons! That was a highlight for Trish—seeing loons in the wild and hearing their beautiful song each night.
While we each had plenty of time to ourselves to read, nap, or work (sorry, Jeff!), we came together in the evenings for dinner and conversation, usually by a fire pit, and usually with one of Jeff’s signature cocktails. We talked; we laughed (“Wisconsin is known for their grapefruits!”); we shared subjects close to our hearts. I am always in awe of how Trish is such a great conversationalist. I admittedly can really struggle. I am the queen of “companionable silence”. Trish can talk with anyone, bringing out their stories and sharing her own. I loved sitting back and watching them all talk. I got to know Jeff much better and, even though I’ve known Lori for decades, learned new things about her as well. It was just all so comfortable! And I slept better there than I have in ages.
We left before we were really ready to leave—always the right time to go. We feel rejuvenated not just by the peace and beauty of the lake, but by the love we felt from Lori and Jeff (and their cat, Buckley, and newly acquired yet not permanently named kitten, Junior Mint). These are the times that I really treasure. Vacations used to be about detoxing from work. Now, they are all about creating shared memories with those I love. We hope to go back to visit Lori and Jeff again. The lake is beautiful and quiet and an immersion in nature that is critical for the soul. But what really restored our souls was sharing that experience with the right people.