Not Quite Home Yet

I slipped away over the weekend to get Claire, my traveling daughter, who's been to one end of the country... LA/San Diego for two and 1/2 weeks- home for one day, then promptly out to the very tip of Long Island - Montauk - by way of the Hampton Jitney bus, (86th St. between Lex and 3rd Ave.) for ten days of camping in an old army tent...(sun, ocean, flooding rains), finally to be retrieved at my brother's place near the coast of Connecticut.


It was great to see my kid again. 


"Wow, I really missed you," I said, squeezing her close.


I really missed her.


"I missed you too, Mom,"she said, squeezing right back.


Then,"and it's nice to visit new places,"she said.


I get that. 


Visiting new places. 


Send me off with my backpack on an adventure ~ 


...with a hug, a kiss, a prayer, a few bucks.


But my timing's off.


This morning had that autumnal chill in the air. 
School letters arrived. 
We school-shopped. 
Next week, Claire starts middle school. 


My adventure was barely two days. I wanted more.


So,I'm not quite home yet.


I'm still by the water, toes buried in sand, face to the sun, my arms slicing through salt water, strong legs moving me through waves. 


I'm hearing sea gulls and watching 


the old woman in her purple suit and bathing cap, 


mouth open, fish-like, doing the side stroke.


Today Claire said, "I like where we live."


"Why?" I asked, daydreaming of 


battered wood pilings
sun
sea
green, grassy salty marsh 
shells
sand
smooth stones


She listed things she likes about where we live... 


our home
friends 
living near Sissy (Jesse) 
the non-trashy parts
the awesome Delaware River


"Living near Sissy is a good thing," I said.
"Yup,"Claire said.
"But I still want to live by the sea, Claire."
"That would be nice too," she said.

Re-entry Can Be Slippery

Email to Neeny this morning before heading home from my get-away:

I stayed an extra day and feel all kinds of things:

good, relaxed, ready to get home, nervous to come home. missing my family, enjoying my freedom...

breathing.

The beach was incredible.

I went in the water yesterday. Just had to.

(back home...)

Got home @ noon.

Dad said, " You're a sight for sore eyes!"

We hugged & I took him to the dentist. Picked up Claire from school. We hugged. She told me tales about health class and the video they watched about pinching an inch.

"I'm fat," she said.

Attempting to make dinner, I burned my hand on scalding water from the kitchen sink, cried like a baby. Shrimp boiled over on stove, cried. Took a cold shower because burnt hand couldn't take hot. Cried. Michael helped Claire with science homework. I kissed him with my swollen cry-baby eyes. She gave us a funny look.

"Dad and I are pollinating," I said.

Sat outside under the full moon with Neeny & drank wine. Cried a little more & listened to crickets and laughed about all of it with baggie of ice cubes on hand.

Re-entry can be slippery.

Salt Air

This photo's from yesterday. After the four hour car ride over the George Washington Bridge to the Long Island Expressway, a stop at the Lobster Inn off Highway 27 for a late lunch, and then the final push to the campground. I didn't get right into the ocean. But I could hear it. And smell it. I finally jumped in it...yes!

But not until we unpacked the car, set up the tents, cased the place on our bikes. It was very hot. But not as hot as today, which is why I'm holed up in the Montauk Library writing this post.

Hither Hills is a mix of tents and rv's, lots of kids on bikes, American flags, Tibetan prayer flags (thank you, Duncan), blue hydrangeas, very brown grass, dunes full of beach plums, a deliciously cold outside shower, and the ocean.

More later about sleeping in a tent, (did I say sleep?), using public restrooms (stumbling out of the tent at God knows what hour and peeing by the nearest bush), spending time with family...we're bonding big time, and life without a mirror, (amen).

So, this is a mish-mosh. A ramble. Blame it on the heat. Or maybe it's because I stepped on my new sunglasses and cracked a lens. Sh*t! Claire told me I need to stop saying that word.

Note: When in doubt, find the nearest library and cool off.

ps. can you smell the salt air?

One Can At A Time

Yesterday was the prep day for our camping trip to Hither Hills, the campground at the tip of Long Island in Montauk where I will be sleeping in a tent for the next ten nights. Whose idea was this again? [ My brother, Rob! That's his tent in the photo.]

Jesse and Elizabeth stopped by to visit while we were in the midst of packing. I was filling a green shopping bag with dry food items and beginning to feel twinges of frustration.

"How am I going to pack all this?" I said, wearily.

"One can at a time, Bean." Elizabeth said. The kid doesn't miss a beat.

It turned out to be an endless day of packing, still gathering things together late into the evening. And yes, I had to clean too: mopping, vacuuming, toilets. Our friend, Mary, who is house-sittting, might've drowned in cat hair and the like. It had to be done.

Everyone had trouble getting to sleep. I was still awake after midnight.

Now it's morning. 6:40 to be exact. I had to get up. Bye Bye Black Bird has been looping in the old brain since probably 5:00-ish. You can't fight the looping once it kicks in. It's okay. I've got my cup of tea and thought I'd better post before the last push begins.

I plan to write every day, as always, unless I can't find connection for my laptop. This is a no frills vacation; campground, dunes, ocean. I know, poor me. But there's no electricity at the site. I will bike to the local library if need be to report in on This Being Alive. I am imagining plenty of good stories. Especially since we are strapping Dad and Claire to the roof rack; the car is stuffed.

Thought for today: stay in the moment. And take things, one can at a time.