Finding Quiet

This morning we leave for our annual family trip to the Boundary Waters.

It’s actually only my second year–my husband John has been making this excursion for many seasons, and now that we are family, the trip is cemented in my yearly planning as well.

The lead-up this week has been full of excitement, but as the day wore on yesterday, I started getting sick of the excitement, the preparations, the everything-we-have-to-do. Being there is one thing; getting there is quite another.

I think a lot of it has to do with the constant lead-up to big things over the course of several months–the big remodel, the big move, the big wedding–big, big, big. All that work and preparation, and for a person who lived alone long enough to get sick of it and get used to it, all those people, everyday, all the time.

A sense of disorganization in my home leads to a sense of disorganization in my brain leads to a sense of disgruntlement (is that a word?) with the forces perceived to be creating that disorganization. Why the hell can’t I find anything I’m looking for? Who the hell put that whatever-it-is on MY side of the desk? Where the hell is my peace and quiet and alone time?

This week at the BWCA is a good time to process these not particularly productive feelings. Try to locate and press that internal reset button somewhere out on Lake One in my little pink kayak. Find the quiet, clear waters that let me see what’s underneath.

Yes, there will be people, but they are people I love and want to spend time with, and it’s probably good to locate those feelings and bring them to the fore–ahead of the internal rant about not being able to locate the dog’s brush or the green pillowcases or why no one but me ever changes the cat litter.

Do I need alone time? Yes. Do I want to be alone? Nope. And the probability that I will be again at some point in my life begs the question, how am I going to make the best of the togetherness I have now?

BWCA dock

Chillin’ on the dock at Cabin One, Lake One, BWCA

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