A Glass of Wine, A Day to Myself and Rick Moranis

I would like to preface this post by stating that I have had two glasses of homemade wine. I’d let the words flow like wine. Except I drank it.

Do you ever have those times when you think “I need a day to myself. No significant other (if you have one). No dogs (if you have them). No kids (if you have them).” Nothing. Just you, and wherever you heart takes you that day. Even if your heart takes you to the couch, in sweatpants, with a pint of Ben and Jerry’s and a trashy movie? Or to the hammock for a 30 minute nap?

I had one of those days Sunday.  To be clear, it was long coming. My days are filled with noise from the moment I wake up until the moment I go to bed typically and I don’t even have kids yet. It was exhausting after a while. By the way to all those parents out there – ignore that I just said it’s exhausting and feel free to scream and throw something at me and hard. I’ll babysit and you can go do whatever you want for a few hours. You are the best.

This last weekend we had totally amazing unexpected weather here in Maine. It was 80 degrees in October. Do you understand the absolute absurdity and wonderfulness of this situation? Do you also know that despite living in Maine it had been two years, two years, since I had been to the beach?

So Sunday Mr. A and I went to church together and it was such a wonderful service, and then he told me to take the rest of the day for myself and go to the beach. You know what makes a good great husband? A man who can visibly see you need a few hours alone. Who despite there being dishes to do, laundry on the line, things to pick up all around the house, painting to do and projects to complete tells you to take the rest of the day and just go to the beach by yourself and take that time. A man who doesn’t once question or ask you to do something before you leave, or after you get home.

I decided to hit up one of my very favorite towns in Maine, Georgetown, and head to Reid State Park. As I was driving I went by Georgetown Pottery and my immediate thought was “I wish I could stop, but I have to go to the beach”.

Then on went the internal, and external, brakes. I quickly told myself (in a sassy inner dialog) that I love pottery, and if I want to go to the pottery store on my day, I’m going to. So I turned around and went. This place is amazing. It had the trifecta for sucking me in : Pottery, Roadside shop, Maine made. Done and done.

If you think I left there empty handed you are sadly mistaken my friend. Most pottery shops do not get visited by me without a quick and swift ninja grab, gently of course because ninjas are graceful and like unbroken pottery. So I commandeered this batter bowl, similar to one I had been pining over on Etsy for months.

Then I went onto the park and the beach. My tranquility was quickly threatened by an onslaught of children yelling, throwing sand, having tantrums because the water was cold. Then I saw her. This one little girl with bathing suit bottoms, a surfer shirt and the most wild curly light brown sandy colored hair – about five years old. She yelled “LOOK AT ME!” to her Mom, and ran full tilt down the sand and into the ocean (her father was right there in the surf). Low and behold that girl jumped into the surf, tripped and went right under. Some random parent yelled, her father grabbed her and the girl came up – stunned. Then she grinned ear to ear sopping wet and ran back to her mother. She made it about half way and stopped, with eyes huge she screamed, “DID YOU JUST SEE WHAT I DID?!” and her mom met her the rest of the way and gave her a huge high-five.

I want a daughter like that little girl, so brave and proud. I want to be a mom like that, so calm at an albeit scary-to-most-parents-moment and encouraging her daughters self-esteem. I imagine it was the first time she ever went under water by herself by her reaction. It made me smile.

For the next few hours I chilled out and read a book over 70 years old, originally given to my gram by my great gram. I kind of have a soft spot for Louisa May Alcott so I was thrilled to find out I owned this somehow.

At some point I looked up and saw this seagull juxtaposed to this man and I grinned. I can’t tell if it looks like a giant bird, or the beach population had an untimely meeting with Rick Moranis and his shrinkin’ machine.

Later in the day as everyone was slowly meandering their way home, I spotted a quiet old soul painting up on the rocks. At times people sat near him and watched, and though he seemed kind, it was obvious he preferred to be alone with his painting. I completely understood. This is as far as I could zoom in without getting closer – I wanted him to have total and utter space.

No wonder he was painting this place.

As I finally started on my way home I decided to take a side road I thought might lead to a lighthouse. It didn’t, but I did see this. I’m not sure why but it made me just stop and stare. I underexposed the photo slightly, so I edited it back to as close as I could remember. The sun hit just right to make the water look so blue, the grass look so green and that stand of trees on an island so perfect. I imagine that island of trees is extremely quiet.

After this I drove home. I was happy to see my husband, and our dogs. I took the laundry off the line, did some dishes, picked up a little and sighed. I felt more relaxed, and more motivated. I am going to have to take days like this more often.

But, I don’t ever want to be alone on that island without my family.

Deep breath in…and out,

Heather

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