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June 23, 2002 - The Way Life Should Be
Leave Boston and head north on I-95 for an hour or so, until you come to the bridge that takes you over the New Hampshire state line, over the water to Maine. When you've crossed to the other side, look to your right and there it is, a billboard that proclaims: MAINE. The Way Life Should Be. On this visit, as usual, I couldn't agree more. Everything - each separate and individual piece of each and every one of our days here - is perfect. Mist enfolds us now as the day draws to a close, but almost all this week has been warm sunshine. The sky is the color a pearl would be, if a pearl could choose to be blue. The lilacs, who deserted us in Boston weeks ago, send up their scent to me as I laze on the porch in the afternoons, wasting time, waiting for the hummingbirds to come around. Last Sunday, like this one, found us here. And so will the next. After that, who knows? We have to go back to Boston for awhile, but with Toby able to work from anywhere he can get on line, there’s no reason for us to be anywhere except here, where we most want to be. I never admitted this - not to Toby or anyone - but I was a little worried about the prospect of spending three whole weeks up here with just the two of us. Sure, it’s fun for a day or so, but wouldn’t I grow bored after awhile? What would I do to fill the long, lonely hours of Toby’s workday? TV up here consists of ABC, PBS, and blurrynbc, period, so my Boston plan - sit in front of the TV with my crocheting from 10 in the morning until 10 at night - clearly would not be an option. Sure, I’d bring along some books, but even someone who loves reading as dearly as I do can only take so much of it. As the time of our departure crept closer, I found myself wishing that some part of the Fam would plan a visit up here during our stay, just to break up the monotony. Would you believe I’ve been so busy that each day hasn’t so much as a minute left over? Take, for example, Monday the 17th of June. 8:30 - breakfast/exercise, filled bird feeder, wound the clock over the TV for the first time in a good seven years, found 3-pronged plug adapter for the microwave in the attic while looking for my grandmother’s old crochet patterns (slim pickin’s), ate 2nd breakfast with Toby, made bed 10:30 Five and Dime for Bangor Daily News, nectar for hummingbird feeder, shore drive through the park, stopped at little grocery store A, SCARY produce! rejected their onions and mushrooms out of hand, went to little grocery store B - much better 11:45 brought home groceries, made lunch (grilled swiss on rye and lentil soup, cherries for dessert), hung hammock out to dry, mixed nectar for hummingbird feeder, raised the flag in the front yard (a pain, I didn’t do it right) 1-2 soap opera & crocheting time 2 hung hummingbird feeder. Made 2-week menu list 2:45 - 3:45 crocheting in the big brown leather recliner in Grandpa’s room and talked to Toby as he worked 3:45 snack (fat-free plain yogurt with a little jam) 4:15 walk with Ruby around the Point 4:45 video store, grocery store for potatoes 5:45 taters cookin’, set up answering machine recording 6:30 dinner (baked potatoes, salad, steamed broccoli) 7-10 Jeopardy & rented film (not very good) while Toby finished up some work 10:30 hot tea and lemon ginger cookies with Toby To some, this day might represent the abandonment of the intellectual self to self-indulgence and domestic trivia. To me, it’s the kind of day I’ve been waiting for since I entered the workforce in June of 1995. A day on which no one yelled at me, no one made me cry, no one created expectations for me to live up to and forgot to tell me about them, no one watched the clock and told me when my lunch break was over or how long I should spend in the bathroom or talking to my spouse on the telephone, no one judged me, blamed me, shamed me, or handed me anything to photocopy, fax, or file. A day on which I did nothing that did not directly benefit me or the ones that I love. Show me the paycheck that can bring that sort of satisfaction. I'll wait right here. Toby keeps telling me I look radiant. And I do. Eyes that sparkle, and no bags beneath them. Mouth spreading always into a smile - a real smile, not a prop to hide behind. A light step that carries me easily from matter to matter, and graceful hands that move gladly over whatever task I set them to. Yes, I am radiant. And the baby doesn’t have a damn thing to do with it. Ah. The Baby. She Who Comes. This is what all the lazy time is for - a last detour into the Land of Self-Indulgence, a last chance to fall asleep with a paperback in the sun, to stay in bed with my husband past nine o’clock in the morning, to dash into town at the last minute to pick up potatoes for dinner without dragging an indignant infant and stacks of diapers in my wake. I’m looking forward to everything that the next phase of my life is going to bring. But I’m glad - so sincerely, profoundly glad - to have these precious days of everything and nothing to gather into myself.
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