Hello from Niantic, Connecticut, along the Long Island Sound. The early July sunset this evening was filled with bright pink and purple hues. The faint scent of the Atlantic Ocean wafting through the cracked windows of this fine abode.
I found myself here after a six-hour-or-so drive from my folks’ farmhouse up near the Canadian Border in Upstate New York. It meant a lot to spend some quality time with them on their own turf, with our usual rendezvous points being when they head to Saint Augustine, Florida, in March or when they visit me in Waynesville once the leaves change colors in October.
This fine abode is the home of my girlfriend’s parents. Rebecca was raised in Baltimore, Maryland, only to have her folks build here years ago when she was a kid as a summer beach house. It’s an incredibly awe-inspiring property, one with polished wood floors and big windows looking onto the ancient waters. Not to mention the large kitchen island where her family gathers often.
Over the last week, I was in my native North Country, running around the Champlain Valley and surrounding Adirondack Mountains, all while meeting crazy deadlines and doing interviews over my smart phone in the front room of the farmhouse (the only room with ideal cell service to do so). The organized chaos never ends, and thankfully. I remember those early years, desperately in search of adequate work in the realm of the written word.
Nonetheless, I’ve been on the road since mid-June. Western North Carolina to Jacksonville Beach, Florida, to Keene, New Hampshire, to New Harbor, Maine, to Plattsburgh, New York, onward to Niantic. Being back in Connecticut has jogged a lot of fond and dusty memories of when I attended college near here, not far down Interstate 95 in Hamden. That was 19 years ago. Where does the time go, eh? Feels like a lifetime ago, a time now only fuzzy in recollection.
In a little more than an hour, it’ll be the Fourth of July. Plans are already in works to wake up early for the neighborhood patriotic parade at 10 a.m. There’s also talk of a family pickleball tournament at some point in the morning, depending on if enough of the potential participants are up early enough to compete. Good thing I brought my running shoes. Grab the coolers. Fill with ice and beverages. Soak in the sunshine. Watch the fireworks at dusk.
A house of nine new faces I’ve never met and have yet to interact with, at least until we rolled into the driveway tonight. Her parents, three siblings, their significant others and the grandkids. For many, it might seem overwhelming. For me, I interview strangers for a living and constantly find myself in overwhelming social situations. So, I feel right at home, honestly. And it feels really nice, and kind of surreal, to actually have a place and plan for July 4.
To preface, I’ve been pretty much a transient soul since I left the North Country after high school graduation. My aim was (and remains) to continuously run towards the unknown horizon. This means, many-a-time, I’m on that journey alone, or alongside other curious faces also in the same boat. Thus, actual plans and family activities on the holidays are kind of rare or foreign to my wayward self, where usually I’m the holiday orphan to others.
The weird thing, in a deeply poignant sense of gratitude, is that I’ve always imagined this kind of scenario, this actual scene that’s unfolding before me in just the first few hours here at the beach house. I didn’t grow up in a big immediate family, nor did most of my young/current adulthood emerge into the normal avenues of holiday traditions or family obligations. I remain.
Crossing the 40-year mark of my existence last year really put a clarifying lens on not only my mind’s eye of what the next decade of my life may look like, but, more importantly, of how I want to walk this earth and position myself. It’s not that I want to slow down (I don’t know how). It’s more about setting time purposely aside to immerse myself in the normalcy and grandeur of connecting into a family dynamic I haven’t felt in my heart since I was a kid.
Sure, I chose this life, and I stand by it. No regrets. Hardscrabble joy. The endless miles of the open road and having weird, wondrous experiences along the way is how I hoped/wanted to spend my time. And yet, I also yearn for the 10 a.m. Independence Day parades that I never got to experience throughout the years, seeing as I was already beyond the horizon to the next adventure on any given day, holiday obligations for you and yours in my rearview mirror.
Who knows what the future holds? I’m game for it all. And what matters most is the here and now, this exact moment in the present. Everyone I just met is already fast asleep and recharging themselves for tomorrow’s endeavors, myself typing away wildly at the dining room table, the only sound besides the laptop keyboard being the undulation of the nearby dishwasher, a symbolic gesture of another dinner shared between loved ones at the beach house.
The summer has just begun and yet it’s already zipping by, as per usual. Once the Fourth of July is crossed off the proverbial wall calendar, then it’s beach days, swimming holes and hearty conversation in the fading, warm sunshine, drinks held high and in unison to those who are within actual reach and not via sporadic texts or phone calls that become more sparse as time marches on.
Connecticut. Time and place. The smell of the ocean. Sounds of Rebecca unpacking her luggage upstairs. The undulating dishwasher and the manic typing. I keep reminding myself to take mental pictures of these things, especially the drive down here, where I kept looking over at her and smiling amid conversation about nothing and everything (and everything in between). And also those mental pictures of our time up in the Adirondacks with my parents, or when we went for a cold, refreshing dip at my beloved Split Rock.
How are you holding up? Family OK? I wish you and yours the best in these weird and confusing times. I hope that your July Fourth was filled with hot dogs and handshakes, cold beers and a true sense that tomorrow is another day, another chance to embrace the endless possibilities of the universe.
Life is beautiful, grasp for it, y’all.