Returning from vacation is hard. I spent part of last week in Canada on a secluded lake with family and family friends - fighting mosquitoes, deer flies and spiders the size of small rodents. What that did for me was make me realize that I need to work on being a better person because I had one of those "aha!" moments as I was departing Canada and driving back to our house in New York. And the "aha!" moment was that this will be my hell if I am not a good girl: wading through swamps, fighting off mosquitoes the size of large dragonflies, and getting stuck in huge spider webs, the owner of which is an arachnid the size of the one from Stephen King's novel, "It." And my slow tortuous death as I am pierced and devoured by those monstrous venom-filled fangs will replay itself over and over again like the movie Groundhog Day except it will be "Maggie's Hell Day in Eternity." In fact, that spider, who probably has a cottage of its own, freaked me out so badly that I have gotten past some issues I've had of late with God and have focused on what's important in life; namely, never taking one moment or one person for granted. Loving deeply. And forgiving. And not doing anything that might make me hell-worthy.
This is not to say that I did not enjoy my time "roughing it," despite the spider named Raoul who lived near the dock and who my smartypants sister-in-law, Janet, refused to kill as I headed in towards shore from a nice kayak trip one sunny afternoon.
"If you think I'm coming in there when I can see that thing from 30 feet out, you're crazy!"
"It won't hurt you," Janet sang out with a broad smile as she continued to "study" it from a safe distance.
"It has fangs," Debbie called nervously.
"All the more reason to turn around and keep paddling until I get back to New York State," I replied, wondering if a whack of my paddle would be enough to render Raoul unconscious, at least until I de-kayaked.
It wasn't until Janet decided to bravely give Raoul a poke with a long stick and he lunged at her that they understood what I was talking about. Janet went hoarse when she screamed and Debbie pulled a muscle and, as she hobbled away from the shore toward her cottage holding her back, I called out, "I told you." Meanwhile, Raoul scampered back to the edge of the dock and lay in wait. For me.
Rather than take any chances, I got out of my kayak several feet from shore and walked it to the shallow "children's area" where I pulled my craft out of the water, removed my water shoes and immediately went into my own cottage and poured Debbie a stiff drink.
I love our family, love kayaking, love swimming (in the swimming pool on the property, not the lake), and love cooking - just not in the middle of nowhere, landlocked by huge snakes, spiders and mosquitoes willing to take me away to their nest atop a 60 foot tree and suck my blood all night, throwing me to the turkey vultures only after every ounce of plasma is gone.
But I try very hard to be everything my husband and family want me to be, and more. I try to accept the big black scurrying ants in the silverware drawer. I accept the chipmunk sitting on the couch when I walk in from outdoors who looks at me as if to say, "you again?" or "where's the remote?" as
just part of the ambience. And I only had to plug my ears and make high-pitched gurgling sounds once when my nephew, Matt, had to relay the gory details of what happened to the 3 pound wide-mouthed bass my brother-in-law caught. This would be the details of the death process as Adam was filleting the bass and what the bass continued to do even after its head was removed. After making all kinds of noise, holding my fingers in my ears and stomping my feet as I sat on the couch, Matt went silent. The look on his face told me that he feared I may be having a seizure - or worse. When I realized he was through and I returned to the present, smoothed my hair and took a cleansing breath, I proceeded to tell him that I did not ever want to hear of such trauma again. Not even if he were a published author of a New York Times Bestseller and I was at his book signing/reading. I didn't want to hear that chapter. Ever.
On Wednesday, I left "Paradise" to return to New York to spend some time with my dad. I packed up my car, hugged and kissed my husband and various family members, and whispered to my husband, "Try to get out of here a day early if you can," and was off - in my car with the A/C on, windows up and the iPod blaring with my favorite music. I rolled down my window as Matt walked by and said, "Bye, honey, I'll miss you. I hate to leave, but I gotta see my dad," and I floored it. I was outta there with a quick "Hasta la Vista, Baby," or, in layman's terms, "See ya later, Suckas!"
I arrived at our home in New York at around 8:30 pm, brought my things inside, and took a long, hot shower. Then I sat on the couch with a big glass of ice water, basking in my loneliness and lamenting the fact that I am such a lousy-ass wife for leaving my husband behind. "Why are you such a freaking mutant!" I shrieked. Then I caught a whiff of the luxurious hair conditioner I had put in my hair - the one that smells like a pina colada. I settled back into the couch and thought it was ok. I had just spent 5 days in the woods on a lake with species of bugs and reptiles I never knew existed. It was OK to return to civilization and visit with my dad - who feels exactly the same way I do about camp life.
When I called the family back in Canada to let them know I'd arrived safely in NY, my sister-in-law told me that everyone was milling around our little cottage, all mopey because I had left. "We miss you, Gnarl," she said (yes, that is appropriately her nickname for me). "I told Druck that you're like a little firefly. You light everything up. We're in the dark here without you. You're like a big beautiful dragonfly with landing lights...."
That.....made the trip...all worth it. To know that even though I am some sort of strange mutant, I am in a family of people who accept such a mutant strain as myself and . . . they actually love it. They miss it when it's not there. And they take care of it when it shrieks in agony over a drawer full of skittering ants.
That night, I went to bed and, as I lay down, I thanked God for the people who love me and accept me, despite my woefully lacking abilities. I also thanked God for makeup, jewelry, pretty skirts and curling irons. And then I dreamt happily about ballroom dancing, yachts and a cottage in the South of France, stocked with Bordeaux wine and all kinds of delicious cheeses and breads. Finally, I dreamt that the Raouls of the world, mosquitoes and black ants were relegated to a hell of their own. Where monsters lunged at them, crawled around in their drawers (or ant hills) and sucked their blood.
Copyright 2009 liamsgrandma/Photographs except the last one credited to my sister-in-law
