Forced Contemplation

I'm in upstate New York right now for my family's annual Adirondack adventure, and this is pretty much the view from my cabin. It's not so much an adventure, since we stay in cabins (albeit rickety ones) on the grounds of an old, great Adirondack Park resort, although I think braving the steep terrain to my cabin in 5 inch stilettos is pretty adventuresome. This used to be the vacation spot for the wealthy urban - the used-to-be Hamptons - but it's now a destination spot only for die-hards like us.

Because it's not the hot spot of old, the silence here is utterly and deafeningly profound when the sun slips behind the towering blue mountain to the west, the one that looks like a giant, sleeping whale. Last night, I sat on my porch to watch the sunset and listened to the waves lapping gently on the shore. And I kind of panicked.

Carla just had a baby a few months back and can't be here with us, though her older son is staying with me here. I miss her terribly and her absence has left me unable to subjugate my own thoughts about what has transpired since my most recent visit here, about this time last year. On our annual trips here, Carla and I always stay up late, drink wine, gossip, and above all, laugh nonstop. My nephew said to me last night, "Aunt Almost, I wish Mom was here. Nobody makes her laugh like you."

I used to beg Ex to come here with me when we were married and he always refused, as he did with most of my social invites, except for once. Last year at this time, I was already aware that I wanted out of the marriage. Of course, since Ex was aware of that as well, it was the first time he asked me if he could accompany me because he knew how important this place is to me. I said no. Carla and I had a blast. She had accidentally gotten knocked up, and when I'd sneak outside to smoke a cigarette, she'd whisper out the window, "Almost, dammit, blow some of that smoke over here. I swear, this kid is going to be the next Tommy Lee because he already loves cigarettes and it feels like he's playing the drums in there."

This year, I don't have Carla's craziness to make me giggle and the silence is an invisible prod, forcing me to deal with issues that I usually drown out with the sounds of the city outside of my door. My mom just asked me a few minutes ago, "What do you think about the nature of marriage?", which was ironic because I had just spent the previous evening staring at the lake and unpacking painful memories to examine in order to truly understand the demise of my marriage.

I hooted and shot her an incredulous look. "What do you think I think about it, Mom?"

She laughed. "Remember the guy who used to be our house painter back when we lived in New Jersey? He was with the same woman for 16 years and they had 2 kids, but they had never married. The kids were embarrassed and urged them to tie the knot. Do you know that they went from a blissful relationship to being divorced within 6 months of getting married? Why do you think that happens?"

"Because all of a sudden, you're not with that person because you want to be, you're with them because you're have to be. You're inextricably bound."

She looked thoughtful and said that she wanted to talk more about it over dinner. I'd rather not, because what I said to her today is my all-encompassing view on marriage. That, and the fact that I know I will never again get married.

There's one other factor that's making it nearly impossible for me to ignore contemplating the changes in my life since July of last year. The genius that I am, I forgot to bring my computer plug and I currently have 18% battery. I can't even entertain myself with mindless web browsing or bothering my friends with an avalanche of emails.

I'm cooking dinner tonight for the family and I think that afterwards, I will go in search of something entertaining so that I may once again subjugate these thoughts, if only temporarily. Perhaps I won't have to search too far, because my 12 year-old nephew has gotten into asking me and my mom sex questions these days. The latest were, "What's a no-tell motel?", "What's a lot lizard?", and "Have you ever gotten waxed? Where? Why would you wax there??"

I'm looking forward to his next set of questions, which I have a feeling will be about transgender issues, since I threatened to turn him into a full-on drag queen this evening if he didn't stop sucking in candy like a black hole sucks light.

But when my nephew goes to bed, I will be alone with my thoughts again on a quiet lake with pine-scented air, both of which silently scream at me to stop pushing thoughts and feelings into a deep, dark place. And I will probably once again miss Carla. And then bring out more memories that I so carefully packed away so they wouldn't hurt so badly. Like last night, I will probably symbolically turn them over in my hands, and the mere act of almost tangibly experiencing them again will make them less painful. I will repack them, yet in a place closer to the surface. Perhaps forced introspection isn't such a bad thing after all.