Short But Magical

View From Our Cabin On Saturday Morning

We actually got home last night and although I spent over two hours trying to write a post I could live with, I just couldn't. I think I was completely exhausted, mostly emotionally which is ridiculous but sadly true. 

The reason we came home early was because I had inadvertently reserved our cabin for Thursday and Friday night rather than Friday and Saturday night. I am giving myself grace on this one because I made the reservation in May of last year and simply got the dates wrong. We discovered this fact when we checked into the state park Friday afternoon and no, there would be no way to extend our stay another night due to filled-up occupancy and so forth. There are ZERO motels, hotels, or inns within probably about fifty miles of where the shindig was so that wasn't an option and unless we wanted to sleep in the back of the truck which we certainly did not, we knew we'd just have to leave a day early. Which may have been a good thing in retrospect. 

After we unloaded all of our vastly overpacked belongings into the cabin, we headed over to the celebration site. Felt like coming home in a lot of ways. So many people I recognized and many I did not. Ironically, there were people from Tallahassee there whom I never see in my daily life but with whom I could catch up with there, a hundred and forty miles from home. Glen was itching to get his kayak out on the lake so he took off to do that and after I'd hugged and loved on Lon and Lis and a few others, I mingled which mostly meant talking to people I knew. 

Liz Sparks showed up and I got into a very fine conversation with her and also, another woman I have tangentially known for many years but we really connected. And then two of my darling friends, whom I have not seen since before Covid, came and gave me hugs and that was wonderful. But then, uh, well. Okay. 
Everyone was so kind and many people recognized me and said hello and of course there I was with my complete inability to remember faces or names or faces or names and as I have said before, that is very stressful to me. I did just explain myself when this happened and everyone seemed fine with my explanation but still, I felt uncomfortable. And then at some point, a guy I used to know extremely well got out his guitar and started playing and singing while no one else (more than half the people there were musicians and very, very fine ones at that) did. I felt uncomfortable for him. Read the room, brother. People are just catching up and getting acquainted here. Not to mention I have been hearing these songs since 1975.

I finally had a small meltdown and texted these words to Glen:

Hon. I need either some vodka or an ativan. Where is the truck? 

Go ahead and judge me. I could care less. And he did come back from fishing and made me a nice vodka soda with lime and I began to relax a little and felt more at ease as night fell and the Sand Hill Cranes began to call and the mullet that another friend was frying on an open fire began to smell really good and hushpuppies were fried and people started putting out salads and soon we were all eating and it was good in all regards.

It is a family gathering, a reunion, and that is all there is to it. And I absolutely hate that my anxieties affect my ability to let myself slip into the sweetness of it. There were kids there who are grown-ups now whom I've known since birth with babies of their own. And teenagers of their own! 
Sigh.

Lis sent out an e-mail before the party asking everyone to please respect their privacy and the privacy of everyone there by not posting pictures on social media and so I did not take a one. I have to tell you though, that there was a tent set up with tables with magical lamps on each and every one where people ate and talked and reconnected. After supper, instruments did indeed come out and there was music outside and music inside. And the house was as sublimely charming and Florida and lovely as it could possibly be. 
True perfection. 

We left around nine thirty, I think to go back to the cabin. 

We were both so tired and I was so overwhelmed but we figured out the sleeping arrangements. There was one double bed with a footboard and a headboard which meant that there was no way that Mr. Moon could fit on it. So he took the futon pad off and laid that on the floor, covered it with a sheet, and made his bed there. 

This meant that I got the bed and oh my god. I had an actual case of genuine hysterics over this thing. 

The mattress was so old that it was filled with metal coils, and on the right side viewed from this angle, there was a dip in it that was as deep and profound as if someone had stored a boulder there for years. This was not your normal old-mattress situation where the middle sinks in and the two people on the bed roll together. This was a true sinkhole, a chasm to fall into, and the metal coils only served to spring me into it. I began to laugh. I laughed and laughed so hard that it became true hysteria. I could not stop laughing. I laughed until I literally cried and I realized that this was not a GOOD sort of laughing, it was a small bit of a breakdown. As Joni Mitchell said, "Laughing and crying, you know it's the same release." 
But honestly, I slept fine on that crazy mattress and Glen slept okay on his futon and in morning we woke up and had coffee and I boiled eggs and cooked sausage and toasted focaccia and we sat on that table and looked at that little lake as we ate. 

Back at the gathering, I made the angel biscuit dough. Since I wasn't going to be there this morning when they were going to be served, I knew I had to get it made so that it could be rolled out and baked when the time came. I made three batches-worth and combined them all in an enormous bowl that Lis has which is the official angel biscuit dough bowl. Her son who looks so much like his daddy that it's a little scary, carried that heavy bowl of dough over to the refrigerator in the studio where they have their recording business set up and I felt like I'd done my job after I cleaned up the kitchen, washing all the bowls and measuring cups and spoons and spatulas. 

I do not know how Lon and Lis do it. It drives me crazy just being in the kitchen long enough to make that dough as people come in with what they've brought and ask what to do with it and are there any serving spoons and does Lis have a knife they can use to cut up tomatoes and how about a cutting board and where do they put the trash and is there room in the refrigerator for this and oh, what can I do to help? 
I would personally find a knife and threaten anyone daring to step into the sacred space where the food was being made, but Lis is a goddess of calm and hospitality and is sweet to everyone, occasionally stepping into the living room to sing harmony with whoever is playing there.
So just that amount of time doing what I did wore my ass out and after we ate lunch, Glen and I got on the road and came home. I am, as I said, exhausted, both physically and mentally but I will tell you for certain that Lon and Lis do create magic and every person who attends that gathering feels it, knows it, is part of it, and will take it with them when they leave.

I am sure I've said this many times but it can never be said too often.

I slept late this morning. Maurice slept right next to my legs all night and I think she was very glad we were home. 

In some ways it feels as if we were gone a week and I guess that's what happens when you step into a magical portal into a different reality. 

The bridal wreath spirea here is busting out in blooms. 

The potatoes are coming up. 

And the arugula whose seeds I merely scattered and pressed into the dirt a few days ago?

Come on, you beautiful greens of spice and life! Grow and thrive for as long as you can in the hot summer months and I will keep planting you to see if we can make this a year-long affair. I promise to tend you and love you and ignore you when that's what you want. 

I ain't too proud to beg. 

Love...Ms. Moon