Do you ever think, ‘I just want a day to myself?’ I used to wish for that when I was working Monday through Friday, using the weekends to ‘get stuff done.’ I never felt the need to be surrounded by people much.
Well, times change, and so have I.
The hubby left last weekend with a buddy, and I had the castle to myself. Now, it’s rare that I have more than one day to spend with myself, but three. Oh, I was absolutely gleeful, giddy even.
The first of those days, Friday, blew by like a Mustang on a straight stretch. I’d spend more time on the vegetable garden, leaving the flower beds in dire need. I hated to spend one of my golden days doing anything related to work, but it needed to be done. And actually, it wasn’t a bad way to spend a day, just busy and very sweaty considering the hot spell we just had. The phlox, God love ‘em, are simply swallowing my flower beds. So, I pulled and cut, dug and cussed, until I had them all whipped into shape. By the end of the day, I’d had it, but the beds looked divine.
Saturday was my day to relax, putter around for a while, and then visit one of my favorite places on the planet, Bayfield. I was going to take my time driving up, maybe stop at the beach north of Washburn to enjoy the view, putz around the shops, take myself to dinner and then see a show at the Big Top by Mount Ashwabay before driving home late. Heaven!
I did those things and had a fine time, but I missed a companion. Oh sure, it was expected that I may miss a conversation as I shoveled in my dinner. After all, it can be a little uncomfortable to sit at a table alone. But I was prepared for that. The view is beyond stunning, and that alone was to keep me occupied while I waited for my food. But it wasn’t enough. Then I drove to Big Top with much anticipation for a great show. I listened to the rousing, and often soothing, strains of the Blue Canvas Orchestra and chuckled at the monologues of author Michael Perry between sets. As entertaining as it was, I had no one to share it with. I was fine sitting alone, but again, something was missing.
Although, I do have to tell you the neatest thing that happened. Molly Otis, a member of the band, came up front with her mandolin to sing and play the song she’d just written titled The Witness Tree. Well, did I perk up! She explained she’d always been intrigued by that term describing a tree used to mark property boundaries. Her song was about a woman seeking self-forgiveness while under the Witness Tree. If you don’t know, this is the title of my latest book and Molly’s song is a good description of my story. I sat in awe of the similarities while enjoying her wonderful tune. I plan to send her a book.
So, after a long, long drive back that night, I realized that I value companionship much more than I had in the past. Alone isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.