JUNE 14, 2020 – Well, I’d had what I thought were big ideas.
Yesterday, my wife and I drove up to The Red Cabin for a few days of respite from the world as it is being depicted these troubling times. Some awful stuff. In the rush to get out of town, we forgot to remove our “Black Lives Matter” sign from our front lawn. There have been reports of these signs in our area getting trashed by bad actors, who, just for good measure, leave behind threatening messages. Neighbors two doors down remove their BLM sign whenever they go up to their cabin. (They feel safe, however, leaving up their red, white, and blue sign that reads: “ANY FUNCTIONING ADULT / FOR PRESIDENT / 2020.”
The three-hour drive, during which my wife snoozes for long intervals, affords me ample time to think. No radio, no news, no music; just the highway in front of us and scenery to the sides.
During the first half hour, however, my wife is fully alert and talkative. Leading topics are our two sons; their lives and prospects. Next, my wife checks her newsfeed, which invariably triggers discussion between us. But after the next half hour, by which time we’re well into rural reaches, I notice that for the past few minutes, I’ve been talking to myself. I glance at my wife. Sure enough, she’s nodded off. Yesterday that was when I shifted gears and started thinking big thoughts about today’s post.
As the familiar miles ticked by, I developed my big ideas and assembled them inside my head into full sentences and paragraphs. I made mental notes of details I’d need to check, information I’d need to verify.
The sun was still shining tall by the time we arrived at our destination. We unpacked, attended to some light yard work, hiked down the lakeshore path to the old family cabin to visit my sister and her husband, who’d driven up a few days before. Spaced wide apart on the front porch, we caught up on their doin’s and they on ours. We hiked back to The Red Cabin, scavenged for a late supper and buried our noses in books. My wife retired early.
Before following suit, I stepped outside to catch a glimpse of the heavens—it being a crisp, clear night. Through an opening in the forest canopy that surrounds our cabin, the Big Dipper shone brilliantly directly overhead. An impressive overture! I then walked out onto the dock where in the broad sky above the lake a whole symphony of stellar light took my breath away. Bright and dim; still and twinkling; in social clusters and shining alone, such a display strikes wonder in the most down-to-earth mind. Off to the east arced the Milky Way—millions upon billions more stars, put there to draw deep gasps from the most jaded hearts.
A few moments of all that, and I decided my big ideas for today’s post weren’t so big after all.
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© 2020 by Eric Nilsson
