Time Away.

   

Last year, June 2013. A happy family- all present and accounted for, a simple vacation. 

      I tried to take a vacation from Grief. I thought it wouldn't be so bad to put away the weight of winter, shrug off the sweater I've been pulling over my shoulders for so long, take a spin with the top down and let my hair blow in the breeze of life. After all, isn't it summer soon? Has the sun not been shining and tanning my girls, kissing their cheeks with rosy circles?

       I've been hearing the call of the frogs in the pond, mating season started a month ago or more already, and their chirping at dusk begins slowly and rises as we try to sleep, a harmony that only this time of year can bring. My neighbors have begun their weekend routine of driveway campfires and the hoses and sprinklers are slithering their way out of the garage, accompanied by the resounding drone of the lawnmowers. Can you smell the cut grass? I caught the scent of wet dirt and rain and worms last week, quickly baked off by the rising sun, the spring being shooed out by an anxious summer, desperate to begin the heat and humidity that will raise the cornstalks and ready the ears for harvest. 

       With all the bright and cheer surrounding me it seemed natural to shed a layer, step out of the safety of the cave I've been hiding in and embrace the change around me.There was no real quiet out here, no private moments or lulls where Grief was allowed to creep in, where tears could seep from their corners and bring back the winter chill. The cacophony was great, all splashing in kiddie pools with giggly giddy laughter, my daughters dressed in swimming suits and perfumed with sunscreen. We loaded up for a traditional cabin visit even, packing suitcases with only hope, all tank tops and shorts, blank tees to tie-dye and drench with the colors of memory-making. 

       Upon arrival I unpacked those hopes, set them on top of the dresser and went to chatter with family about the good fortune of fair weather. My husband lit the charcoal for dinner and sat with the smoke, letting it cloak him in its haze and breathing deeply in its seasonal embrace. I saw it then, the coming storm on the horizon, and I blinked it away, willing the denial to fill my gaze with only rays of happiness and fond times. Really it wasn't too difficult to stuff it away, the heaviness of Grief had no place in my vacation home, the visit was bound to be brief anyway, and I planned to head back to my cave sooner than later...didn't I? I earned this reprieve, deserved a hiatus from the Grief that bogged me down in my every day world.
       Funny thing about my vacation though. It didn't exactly leave me rested, did not allow me to catch up on light reading or pretty stitching. There was no mindless gossip, idle conversation or benign pillow talk. Sure, there was neon spraying onto white fabric, memories made for the sake of making them, photos taken simply to catalog a week in the life, to look back on a time that was. Not to say that good times didn't occur, that an evening of card throwing and jesting wasn't enjoyed, but it was all work all the same.That coming storm hovered near, threatened to break through the sunrise clouds and rain on the parade. Soon enough it came, not any too soon really, why try to thwart Grief when it would break any defense?
       I wasn't sad when the vacation ended, though I am weary of the work. That's a discussion for another day. For now, suffice it to say that I am back, maybe not resting all day in my shady alcove, maybe not huddling under wool and long sleeves, but aware that the Grief cannot be denied for long. My family appreciated the respite though, had longed to see the smile brighten my face again, however brief its visit.