This is my life now. Absurd but unpredictable. Not absurd because unpredictable but unpredictable because absurd. If I have lost the meaning of my life, and the love of my life, I might still find small treasured things amid the spilled and pilfered trash.~ Joyce Carol Oates, "A Widow's Story"
I went up to Big Bear Lake to go kayaking this weekend with a friend.
We arrived early enough in the day, checked into our disappointingly adequate room and headed out the door. She turned toward the lake. I turned toward the village.
"Don't you want to check out the marina?" she asked.
"Let's have a drink first," I replied.
It is a phrase I hear myself saying rather often of late. It should make me feel badly, I suppose, seeking this most pedestrian of refuges. Frankly, it does not. I should probably be calling an agent and seeking treatment with the good Dr. Drew or, even more onerously, the bad Dr. Phil, but I do not. I have my dignity. And I am cheerful when imbibing, in ways I am not when entirely clearheaded. My mind goes blurry around the edges and for a little while I can almost remember who I used to be.
My friend eyed me dubiously. "Well, okay. One drink." We struck off in search of a quaint little pub. What we found was an adorable little biker bar whose clientele proved to be a welcoming blend of friendly locals and even friendlier tourists. She ordered a cocktail. I sprang for a beer. We were served by a barmaid called Charlie, who wore her cherry-red hair, hot pants topped by a belt of shining silver and 60 some-odd years like a sparkling tiara. I became very cheerful indeed.
At some point the next morning, we went kayaking.
I floated dreamily on a bed of lily pads as electric blue dragonflies hovered and silver-lit fish of indeterminate species leapt above the water. A tour boat modeled to look like a pirate ship listed by, a papier-mache deckhand swinging in the rigging. I dipped my hands in the water and rolled gently in the pirate ship's wake.
This is my life now. Absurd but unpredictable. If I have lost everything, I may yet find small treasured things. Or small things to treasure. Somehow, it will have to be enough.
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4 comments:
It took me ages to find small things I can treasure (like it's still a rocky process a lot of days). I count martinis and margaritas among those things, just not on the same day. Three years down the road, it is easier, still absurd, for me -- terribly, drainingly predictable, but easier. Keep your eyes on those lily pads. It helps.
I've been to Big Bear, went parasailing there. I only mention this because it helps me envision you there, in town, kayaking, and it cheers me to know that you are able to snatch some moments of contentment here and there. I daresay they will become more frequent, but I won't suggest that they will ever become numerous enough to fill the void. If a drink lifts your spirits a bit, have one; in fact, have several.
Cheers, Paul! Russ would have agreed with you. ;) And if I'd seen parasailing in town, I would have gone for it. It's on my new bucket list.
Thanks, Cynthia. You really have to hunt for those small things now though, don't you? I keep looking for the lily pads. Funny, I only see them when margaritas are involved...hey, like leprechauns! :D
Stick with me kid, it will always be unpredictable. I don't know how to live otherwise. ;-D Is parasailing, the thing in the sky or the thing on water? I'd totally do it if it's the water thing. I fear your bucket list and mine may diverge on many points but I'll be happy to sit close to the ground and watch.
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