It’s been 2 weeks, where did I go? I took a writer’s vacation. I told all of those creative voices in my head to take a break, to send me no words so I could reset. Sometimes that’s just the thing I need in life, a reset. When I get overwhelmed with too many home tasks, or pressures of the world, I will take a 15 minute nap to reset. My brain starts spinning like a Kaleidoscope and pretty soon I don’t know where the beginning is or the end, or why I have been standing in the kitchen staring at the refrigerator for fifteen minutes.
A great way to reset is to drive yourself way up to the tippy top of the USA to Maine where you have no cell or data service. Where social media no longer lures you in. There you realize the square metal object is actually not permanently attached to your hand. You find freedom. Your eyes suddenly have time to look out into the world in wonder.
Maine is full of wonder.
The Wonder of Nature
Mountains carved in trails. Sea crashing against rocks. Sailboats maneuvering lobster trap bouys.
We zig zag on bikes. Racing. Chasing. Walking them up hills as we try to forget about the ache in our sits bones.
With hiking shoes and packs strapped on we venture out for another hike up the mountains. Our bodies sweat as we challenge our legs to bring us higher. Higher. Higher. Until, we look down upon our efforts with sighs at our accomplishments and the beauty that surrounds us.
There are rewards on the trails in the form of blue jewels. They are sweet, some are tart. Jewels hidden in bushes that you can never buy in a store. Even those who dislike blueberries find them to be compelling to munch from the bush, or cooked into pancakes and syrup.
The Wonder of Friendship
We reconnect with friends we met at this very same campground in 2011. A friendship of seasons shifting as the tide rises and falls. We snuggle in conversations by the fireplace and join in cheers to the meeting of new friends.
We celebrate friendship by talking about the deep things. Real things. We eat goodness and share wine bottles, talking about our relationships and the blossoming of our children. We look on as our children laugh and have adventures like they did when they were young. Our children, the ones who have encouraged us to keep growing.
Our kids gather in groups to play video games, record music, play board games, night tag, and jump on the trampoline.
Today, they take the free bus into town to gather at the coffee house or walk the park catching Pokemon. The adults read books and write. Jon plays guitar. We rest up for the next week of hikes, sea kayaking, and more connecting.
Friendship is full of wonder.
The Wonder of Self Discovery
I find my body to do wondrous things as I hike granite and push muscles to their limits. I acknowledge my body freezing up in fear as I step on iron rungs drilled into the ledges. I can do this. One step at a time. Standing at the top I feel energized and empowered.
A four mile hike leads us to Jordan Pond House where refreshing drinks are served with fresh popovers.
We stand at the bus stop in a large crowd wondering together what time the next bus will come and if we will ever get on. Where do you stand to be in the front of the line? The bus pulls up and hikers that joined the group ten minutes prior swarm on the bus ahead of us. The next bus is so full it can only fit in about six new people.
We stand at the front of the line this time. We have been waiting an hour now to catch the shuttle back to our vehicles. This bus decides to pull up in the middle of the line. The crowd begins to siphon on in disregard of those who were there before them. With four adults and eight teens in tow, I was tired of the injustice.
I found my way to the front of the crowd and said to the next woman approaching the steps, “We have been waiting here for an hour, can we please get on the bus?” (Did I just say that?)
She answered, “Well, I have a wheelchair.” I continue eye contact and wonder how that matters in the argument.
“Just go,” I say.
Then, the crowd starts to inch forward and I hear a voice speaking so clearly, so loudly from deep within and exploding through my own lips. “Could we please get on the bus? We have been standing in the front of this line for an hour?” I stare at the crowd.
“But we haven’t been able to see much of Acadia today,” says a woman in response.
I can’t respond. Instead, I wave those eight teens forward in succession as I use my back to stand firmly against the crowd. Then, wave in the rest of the group who has been standing in the heat – 2 elderly couples, my two friends, and husband. I enter the bus behind them.
That night, I have obsessive dreams about that woman who spoke her truth against the crowd. I wonder if she will visit again?
I am full of wonder.