I had a chance to sneak over to the cottage for a few days. My friend was heading over to check in on an older relative and offered me a lift. I can’t believe I even hesitated for an instant but I did, a moment of panic before I regained my senses.
Coming back to the cottage this year is very bittersweet. I’ve opened and closed the cottage by myself over the years and spent so much time here alone, that isn’t the problem. The problem this year, is that it is the 1st time that the cottage is MINE, and MINE ALONE. It’s a weird feeling. I’m now responsible for everything that happens here. This year had the added complication of packing up some of my ex’s things to ship back to him.
To be completely honest with you, I had no idea that parts of my weekend would be so sad. I realize that I am still grieving the loss of my marriage. I really do miss my ex and I am moving on with my life, it seems to be shaping up as a good one but it was the little things that got to me. The memories of us laying the floor down, putting in the shower stall (never again!!), laying the tile for the kitchen counter and the days spent reading and watching the bay. Every time I walk by the ladder that he designed and painstakingly made, 4 inches off the floor, so that I wouldn’t stub my toes on it on the way by to the bathroom, I get a lump in my throat. With time these memories will fade into something less painful and more beautiful.
The rest of my time spent here was very healing. I had to climb up and down the cliff to get to the beach, our stairs aren’t in yet and there is quite a bit of erosion again this year. I went for long walks on the beach, reacquainting myself with the rhythms of our bay, lots of “green meanies” dead on the beach right now (these are the invasive crabs that moved in). The Herron were out fishing in their favorite place, just outside my cottage, the crows were up to their usual antics, laughing and playing in the breezes with the seagulls. I could have sworn I saw a loon, they’ve been missing from the bay for a long time, but I was told it was probably a cormorant. The Eagle flew over Saturday night, a slow beautiful pace, enough for me to see him very well, almost as if he was welcoming me home, before he continued on to his hunting grounds for dinner. It’s nice to know that everything here remains familiar, there is a comfort in the rhythm of that.
I spent part of my saturday just sitting in a big beautiful sun patch, thinking about what I would do when I get back next week and wondering how many mosquitoes would be joining me. I can’t wait.
Dreaming big from the East Coast,