Camping! Oh the woods of Vermont have so much to offer. From the miniture mossy lands lurking in the decomposing layers is such all the way to the towering mountainous views. Hmmm… I love it to the core. I have found home. That is certain.
But, I will be honest, for if I wasn’t what exactly would I be doing, writing here?
It was one of those weekends where quite frankly everything got on my nerves. A single whine, disagreement, a burned piece of french toast, (my husband… in general) all easily sent me reeling. I was falling fast into the depths of anger, grasping for anything on my way down. After the good portion of our first morning was spent searching (with many wrong turns and no baby backpack) for a waterfall (which ended up looking more like a water hill to my crabby eyes), I decided it was in everyone’s best interest for me to take a hike. Alone. And fast.
I would like to say the effects of such a decision set in immediately. But again, that would be a lie. It took a full twelve hours and a good nights rest to let the energies of my hours alone gain momentum enough to change the course of my minds eye. Turns out there is no such thing as going the wrong direction.
It seemed as if every corner I took on my hike I crossed paths with the Appalachian Trail. I even caught glimpse of a few hikers, who over my few miles reached celebrity status in my mind. I just kept thinking I want to do that. When will I get to do that? It’s too late for me! All this self-pity. All this regret of what might have been. All this fear of whats to come.
I climbed atop a big old rock and set up a spot so that no travelers would not catch sight of me, but I could watch them come and go as I pleased. (Totally creepy, I realize this now) As I looked around I thought of the glory of such an adventure. I thought of the life changing realizations, the breath-taking views, the camaraderie, the simple pleasures, the memories. I thought about them, and I felt just plain old bitter. When I couldn’t take much more, I slid down the rock, careful not to slip too fast on the mossy stones, and wandered through the woods, continuing to search for my yellow trail markers, with a heavy heart. It feels terrible and guilty and wrong to wish for anything other than these gorgeous faces to be by my side for always.
But, I have to imagine, we all do this, even if for only the briefest moments. And surely, its clear from my writing that I love them with all a heart can hold. But I think for a weekend I wished I had done something else first. Something extraordinary, something selfish.
This morning I woke up and willed myself to be a morning person, and lo and behold I was back. My husband was once again a tall drink of water, breakfast turned out just right, I liked my dog, and whines sounded less… whiny (mostly). I can’t explain it other than I just had a change of heart. Those cuddles were just too good. Hearing, “Mama, I love you faster than a peregrine falcon” made me smile too deeply. The sight of worn in, painted up carharts, the smell of coffee perking on a fire, my boys.
I have learned that an actual language of the heart exists. And that the energy it uses to forward information within your body is simultaneously projected in the areas around you. Your joy, your passion, your frustration, your anger is all transmitted outwardly and is picked up by others knowingly or not.