After a busy few months here in the city, I took a solo trip to the South Shore to get away from everything for a few days. I’ve had a bundle of new responsibilities at work, which have been meaningful and rewarding, and have also pushed me to learn and grow beyond my comfort zone. At the same time, it has gotten increasingly difficult to separate work life from home life (both Jane and I, in our early careers, have been all-too-willing to bring work home at times), and to find genuine space for relaxation and creativity on the weekends. Even on my off days, I sometimes notice myself hanging around in a cloud of stupor, or sinking into a puddle of anxious energy. Jane noticed this too, and suggested that I spend some time away from home to disconnect from the well-worn rhythms daily life and recharge my well. So it was that I wound up spending the first week spring in a lakeside cottage on the Billington Sea - waking for sunrise, having leisurely breakfasts while watching waterfowl and migratory birds, going out for day walks in Plymouth and Duxbury, and spending my nights quietly reading and writing. It was a strange experience - the first time I had been truly alone since my self-imposed isolation early in the pandemic. Perhaps I’ve gotten less comfortable being alone, or perhaps my life has changed in such a way that slow, lonely days are not as pleasurable at they used to be. I have more responsibility now. New connections to the world around me, personally and professionally. I’m certainly a few years older, and growing exponentially more aware of my mortality, the passage of time. All the same, I still appreciate certain things: the quiet of the woods. Golden light over water. The year’s first wildflowers and budding trees. The beauty is out there, everywhere. One just has to take a moment to breathe and wander and look.
