The kids have departed. They now play with their kitty cats on opposite ends of the country.
Your blogger is still remembering the last week. Her son departed for San Diego early last week; her daughter still remained until yesterday.
Her daughter urged a hike along the Slate River on Tuesday. We spent a couple of hours walking downstream. I swear, dear reader, that this enterprise involved a few unused muscles.
I ached for two days afterwards. (Which was nothing new since Daughter decided to visit and keep her Mama hopping from 5K’s to river walks to kayaking expeditions.)
You know what’s strange lately?
I have much less desire to chronicle Life for the World.
For five years I’ve chronicled Life for the World with photos and stories. (In fact this is the 800th post of Life chronicled on Lake Superior Spirit since 2010, which is not counting all the years before that on various other blogs.)
Lately, this desire has eased in intensity.
I walk on the river and desire to be walking on the river.
I don’t want to be telling stories in my head or taking photos.
Just want to be walking along the river.
The same thing happened while kayaking.
I did not want to be taking pictures.
(You never know. Said blogger may end up in the “drink” and lose camera evermore.)
I did not want to be telling stories.
Just wanted to be kayaking.
One paddle, two paddle.
One ore dock.
No stories in the mind.
Just paddle in, paddle out. Paddle in, paddle out.
One wild & precious moment passing like waves on Lake Superior.
One wild & precious moment with toes in the kayak.
One wild & precious moment that I just deeply wanted to experience.
And you, my friend?
Do you feel the same way?
Do you want to merge so deeply with the moment that you’re married to it? That there’s nothing else except the roar of the waterfall, the aching muscles, the orange of the kayak, the indignant honking of seagulls, the delight of what’s unfolding next?