Northern Michigan Summers..

I was just looking for a file on my computer and came across a story I had written about when I was a little girl and the excitement of summer...it's been a LOOOONG, COOOOLD winter up north. Think back to these precious moments (those of us who grew up near the beach) and know that it IS on it's way...

The Perfect Summer Day

Until I moved away as a young adult, the ultimate days of summer were lived at the beach. In my early elementary years, beach days were met with so much simmering excitement it was like shaking a carbonated beverage and then taking the top off. Usually, Mom would take a few of us, but the extra special days were when it was just her and me.  From late morning, when I would put on my colorful one-piece bathing suit until the short drive home at five o’clock, we had our own rhythm; it felt almost like a secret.

Around noon, she’d pack a bag with an old sheet and big towels, bright buckets and shovels, Coppertone lotion (SPF 4 – the highest factor back then) and her little black radio with an antennae and a roller to dial in the stations. The cooler held peanut butter and jelly or bologna sandwiches, Bugles and Cheetos, Chips Ahoy cookies and Kool-Aid for me, Pepsi for her.

Bryant Park was a mile and a half from our house, tucked away behind our little peak-roofed, half glass church. Once Mom parked our burgundy station wagon among the pine trees and unloaded it, she and I would lumber to the crescent-shaped beach to get a prime spot. We’d lay out the flowered sheet carefully to avoid immediately swishing it with sand (futile effort) and the radio would get tuned to WTCM. Tunes from stars like Charlie Rich would echo from the speaker, “When she lets her haaiirrr haaanng down,” and I’d sing along, heading straight to the sixty-degree bay with my arm floaties, mask and snorkel.  I would fall face-first into the frigid water with lightning speed to get brain freeze over with, then proceed to snorkel all day along the sandy shore looking for Petoskey stones, fish bones and pretty rocks.

Eventually, Mom would get too warm on shore and wade in slowly to gradually numb her limbs. She’d let me take off the water wings and help me swim – pure delight. After a few minutes, we’d head into the deeper, glittering blue and she’d let me dive off her shoulders. It brought splashes and giggles from both of us.

Mid-afternoon, I would drag myself to the sheet, sad to leave my treasure hunting, but with agonizing hunger, plop down and plow into my sandwich. The Bugles went on my fingertips and were eaten one at a time despite the request to “not play with my food.”

At the end of the day, probably around 4:30, Mom would have to start convincing me that we had to go. Despite pruned skin, yawns and goose bumps, most days she would have to take my hand, lead me to the sheet and with stern Mom Voice, coerce me to dry off. I hated saying goodbye to the fantasy world I had spent all day creating. As we’d pull away, despite my tiny age, I would burn the blue, green and tan scenery into my brain like a painting so I could dream about it until the next perfect day.

 Thanks, Mom, for the great memories!

Progress

I have been so bad about writing like I had intended. Each day is still full of non-stop activity but the end of the kitchen renovation is in sight. The pod-like containers holding what is left of my "life" are finally empty and out of the driveway. Some of my belongings are in storage and the rest are filling the third bedroom, part of the dining room, and a little in each of the other bedrooms. Ugh!



Though the above progress is great news, I have to admit, I've been a little out-of-sorts, or as Allan (and Barney) say, "Grumpy." Being the wildly Type-A person that I am, I do NOT like living in chaos. I don't know how hoarders do it -- I feel like I can't get organized no matter what I do! Once the kitchen is finished (end of this week most likely), I can empty all of those boxes and then there's room for the rest. Can hardly wait!



I'm trying to be more self-aware and less cranky, and in doing so, I've noted several other reasons that I'm not feeling like myself. Aside from not being able to exercise or hit the beach at all right now (a little surgery to remove a mole on my foot), I've not been doing anything creative or doing basic things like COOKING, not eating as healthily as I usually do (back to not cooking) and the biggest reason seems to be mourning my Lake St. Louis life. Surprises me too. I loved living there, mostly because of my LSL "family."



When faced with the decision to move back to Florida so rapidly, take the wild-card on love and go for it, I didn't think I'd miss what I left behind so much. It doesn't mean my decision wasn't the right one, it's just another BIG change in a year with no consistency. It's led me to ponder the fact that with every choice, there is always a positive and a negative. I am inclined to whine and say whyyyy??? but a wise man once said, "Don't ask why? (there is rarely an answer), ask what? instead." So I ask, WHAT can I do about it?



I can continue to feel the blessings bestowed on me. I am grateful every day to have my health and thankful every moment that I have found love again (still can't believe it some days) and how amazing it is, to know the true sense of the word friendship and love from so many. Though I have life-long friends I couldn't live without here in Florida and in Michigan, I have never been so deeply impacted by friendship as I have been by those wonderful people in LSL. I miss them daily and hope to bridge the distance with visits, though it's not going to be the same as meandering out to the deck to share a glass of wine, or walking to the park, watching the turkeys, enjoying the new spring days....



Again -- such a swirl of emotions. I am elated to be spending the winter with my sis, Susie, and that I was here for her when her beloved golden retriever went to heaven last Tuesday. I am happy for Barney that he's out of the cold and getting to enjoy his last few months in the warmth with lots of walks and a step-papa that he adores. Every time I look at Allan, I am overwhelmed by love and know that I am right where I'm meant to be. When I get to do yoga near the beach and feel the sea breeze, pure contentment reigns, and I realize this girl is a beach-baby.



Through my Cracker-Jack box of daily emotions, I remind myself that I am human, I've endured a shocking amount of change in a year, and that it's okay to be on the roller-coaster, as long as I ride it, feel it, and move on.



"We must let go of the life we planned, so as to accept the one that is waiting for us."
Joseph Campbell

PS: I am finally going to be published in a poetry book that'll be for sale at B&N and on Amazon! More on that next time...

Kindness

Finally a few minutes to write. Since I returned from Missouri, I've sat down several times in the evening to compose a blog, and before I can open my laptop, I'm dozing off. I've been back two weeks and each day is over before it has begun!

The trip to pack up the house was successful and crushingly stressful. The first day, my closest LSL friend and her husband came over to help me sort, pitch and pack. We started about 8:30AM and before I knew it, the sun was setting. All I did was sort and pitch. There was no time to pack. With Kellene's help, I went through Ken's belongings like a sergeant -- methodically, keeping emotions to a minimum. I had to read almost everything in order to know whether to keep it, pitch it, shred it or give it to family.

After about four hours of managing his things, we started on mine, giving it the same, cold treatment. When we came upon my ballet slippers, my baby clothes, my first raggedy teddy bear with one eye and no fur -- no exceptions. Garbage bag. It broke my heart for a while -- it felt like I had died a little too. I had to ask myself, why keep it and move it and store it? Who is ever going to want it? Kellene was the gentle voice of reason and reminded me of the impending move and the limited space in the moving container. All-in-all, 15-18 of those particular boxes and bins became four. And the Consolidation Award goes to...Kristin!

The rest of the trip was packing, pitching, sorting, and selling everything. I sold almost all of the furniture. Again, emotionally difficult and still stinging a bit. Not the material part of it, just how hard we worked and how proud we were of those few special pieces that we splurged on when we bought our first house together; the forever bedroom set we finally purchased when we moved to Missouri. Gone to the new owners of the house, to friends and neighbors. As sad as I was to see it go, I was grateful that everything sold as easily and quickly as it did. And, I am equally glad that much of it is still "in the family."

Four days, fifteen to eighteen hours a day of marathon packing, and the whole house was ready to go into two 16x8 containers for shipment to Florida. Each of those exhausting days was a kaleidoscope of determination, melancholy, disbelief, numbness, and regret, mixed with bouts of despair and crying laced with moments of happiness and love from the sweet texts that would come from Allan just when I needed them most. I wondered if I was finally losing it! (Yes, I know, you're thinking  I lost it a long time ago).

The saving grace for my sanity that week was friends and neighbors, who are now lifelong friends. I am utterly AMAZED at the kindness, love and support from people I have known for a handful of months. When Ken died, they took me under their wings, watched over me, fed me, hugged me, knew just when I needed them most and the doorbell would ring. They became my rocks, my laughter, my companions. And, once again, in my time of need, they all rallied around and helped me accomplish what would've been impossible without their help.

Ken's best friend, Tyler, his wife, Kym and their son, Colt, who moved to Missouri with us for work, helped immensely throughout the week, even though they too are still grieving. By moving away, I am cutting the ties to our new lives; the physical reminder to Ken, and yet, they selflessly support my move back to Florida and continue to show how much they care.

My time in Lake St. Louis feels like a dream. It was one year -- one short year, and yet it changed my life forever. I am a better person for having lived there, for knowing that there is a world where strangers willingly ban together, reach out and share their love with someone in need without expecting a single thing in return. A world where neighbors will mow your yard or blow the snow out of your driveway or watch your beloved dog on a moments notice without being asked, or if you do ask, say yes without hesitation. A world where you feel the true meaning of friendship every day and you know that you're never alone. What a gift and an example for my future interactions.

Kindness, according to book two of Aristotle's 'Rhetoric' it is defined as: "helpfulness towards someone in need, not in return for anything, nor for the advantage of the helper himself, but for that of the person helped". 

Thank you all and God Bless.