It’s good to get away by yourself now and then, if only to remember why you chose the life you live.
From my chair under the pines I had a bird’s-eye view of Willow Creek as it gently flowed over smooth rocks into a tiny pond beyond an outcropping of granite. A bench sat empty at water’s edge, save for the sole man and his Golden who visited the spot once – two days ago.
Wild-looking, pointy-eared squirrels darted from tree to tree and across the large rocks between which the water flowed, along with something like a large rodent – which I was more than happy to observe from a distance.
A chorus of birds sang overhead, some of which I can say sounded less bird-like than the sounds on my son’s electronic keyboard at home – who knew those sounds actually originated in nature?
A gentle breeze played with my hair, which tickled my face while I sat smelling grass and moist soil and breathing deeply out and in and out again. I closed my eyes and wondered what it would be like to stay right here, under my blanket on this canvas chair in the woods, where the only sound of human life was the distant hum of a jet in transit.
The life of a hermit has its appeal, where the only drama in the past three days was caused by the mouse who got into my food bag overnight. An easy routine of eating, sleeping, writing, praying could make for a peaceful “normal” out here, where keeping the world at arm’s length is much, much simpler to do.
No TV. No internet. Poor cell coverage. Distant neighbors.
No coffee with friends. No spur of the moment conversations. No shared laughter – or tears. No one but bugs and cobwebs and God to hear me when I open my mouth to speak.
Part of me argues: What a perfect scenario for a world-weary woman who is pulled this way and that from the moment the alarm signals morning! But the part of me whose bags are already packed and ready to load into the waiting car says, “Nah!”