Posted by: syncopated1 | April 9, 2011

Chapter 5.2 On Being Alone (an addition to previous work)

“…Let me be alone, When being alone is all I need…”  The Avett Brothers

Last Sunday afternoon I was in between cleaning up after my very successful Game Night and thinking about preparing for Sunday dinner with my neighbors when I found myself quite unexpectedly in the midst of a profound fit of melancholy. This is not to say that I was sad, on the contrary I was still quite pleased with my day, and the dinner coming up, but more that I was alone in a house that had, for a brief moment, been very, very full the night before. My sister had just left, and I had also just left my neighbors’ home where I had been hanging out for a portion of the afternoon.

Within the serene warmth of my own space, I was finishing the final touches of cleaning my kitchen and preparing a list of ingredients I need to for cooking when I was seized by the blues. Without any real questioning of the urge I collected what I like to call my “utility belt” (phone, wallet, keys), got in my car and left.

I drove first past Joe’s Smoke Shop thinking of Val, and in seeing it still boarded up for the winter I continued on. I wound my way out Schooner Head Road, barely driving the speed limit, enjoying the warmth the sun had created within my closed car. The Avett Brothers had just started singing “The Perfect Soace” when I drove past Jackson Lab. By the time I reached the last refrain I found myself parked in the Schooner Head Overlook gazing out at the bay. I turned the car off and sat in silence while I watched the wind bend the bare trees in front of me, and at the same time I took in the seagulls wheeling about in the sky searching for anything they could scavenged. I looked on in quiet contemplation as an old couple from Southwest Harbor (or at least their windbreakers bearing “SWH Fire Dept” suggested as much) helped each other in and out of the car and then along the path in front of me. I drank in the “in between-ness” of the season and my life for almost 15 minutes in silence, noting how the sky and the ocean were both the same color blue, matched nearly perfectly in hue.

And then, just as suddenly as it came upon me, the melancholy was gone. I turned the key of my car, flipped the Avett Brothers over to “Kick Drum Heart,” shifted into gear and headed back in the direction I had come.

 

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