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.