There’s something stunning about nothing. I mean the nothing
that happens when you get up before light; before the birds first chirp, the
frogs croak, and the children scream. I recall just six years ago this was a
regular occurrence.
It was different then. I would stay up all night doing meth,
and every morning just before the sun came up, nature would warn me that soon
enough, reality would be alive again. It was a devastating feeling, especially
when I actually held a job and I knew at some point I would have to put down
the pipe and take a shower. Toward the end of my run, it didn’t matter much
because I didn’t work and rarely showered and I was headed into prison.
Today is different. Just in writing these two paragraphs,
the world around me has begun to sing its song. Aside from a woodpecker close
by, it is all rather soothing, and I find comfort in its harmony. Perhaps to
them, the rhythmic stroking of my keyboard is music to their ears. Perhaps.
It’s time to stop writing for the day. My grandmother, who
has joined us with some other family members, is awake and looking for coffee.
So, I will spend some time with her and write more tomorrow.
It’s tomorrow, which is today. The sun is at my back and
it’s early morning here in the Wisconsin Northwoods. The idea of having a
family honeymoon has worked out. The girls are with us, and family from both
sides of the new tribe is here to spend our vacation with us. Yesterday I
toured the lake a couple times in my uncle’s duck boat—very likely not used for
hunting—exploring the new cabins and watching the loons swim peacefully and
slowly, occasionally calling for their mate, or maybe just screaming because
they are crazy. This area has been developed extensively since my uncle and I
first started coming up here some 30 years ago.
There is a radio on a table just
by the sliding glass door that leads to the screened-in porch. I recall my late
childhood when he and I would listen to twins games while sitting around the
fire and eagerly awaiting the early morning when we would cast our lines into
the tranquil waters of Pear Lake. Back then, this was just a patch of woods and
we slept in tents. Everything changes, but the memories remain. Amanda and I
have decided many times in these few short days that we need property; a little
getaway from the stressors of real life. We can’t afford to do anything about
that at this point in our lives, but it’s nice to have dreams. It’s also a
possibility. In my sobriety, I seem to have been able to everything I’ve set
out to do with a few exceptions. Nothing about my criminal past can hinder my
ability to seek out and purchase a plot of land. Maybe in a few years when we
have our own business up and running, we can add on another piece to our lives.
I just love the idea of getting away for a bit.
Today we (probably not me) will
all relax in the lake, floating endlessly, guided only by the wind. Tonight we
will assemble and roast—probably not in that order—s’mores around the campfire.
Tomorrow we will do the same, or maybe not. It’s nice not to be bound by the
thought of having to go to work tomorrow, or the next day, or the next, etc.
Signing off for now,
V
