42

The past two mornings I have woken at 6:36 on the dot. Today the clock only confirmed what I knew to be true. Of course, my inquiring mind is wondering the meaning, if any, and seeing as how today is my birthday, I'm especially interested in exactly what hour and at what minute I came forth into this world forty two years ago. I am sadly wishing my Mom were here to tell me.

And yet I was happy to wake up in the north woods nestled in bed with my man and my girl. Apparently being on the other side of the wall, literally head to head, wasn't close enough in this strange setting for Miss Bit. I am happy now to have this quiet time to be here before the rest of the house rises and readies. There is no doubt I'm missing my Keurig and my cats in this moment, but I'll survive and so will they.

I cannot say much of the drive up since I spent most of it engrossed in Stegner's Crossing to Safety, which has finally taken hold. I read page after page despite its effect on my car sickness, steady although not severe. Once again the sign seeker in me was caught up in the way art imitates life...how so many stories mimic our own...if only we look for the similarities, we see the common threads that connect us all. I've felt like this book was an old friend from the first page. Now I'm almost certain I haven't read it before, but there is still something about it that feels familiar. Maybe the setting: Madison and Battell Pond. Madison is my Alma Mater and I'm sitting with a view of the lake through the birch and pines right now. Or perhaps, it's the literary connection. English major: English professors; readers and writers. I got chills when Sally was overtaken by the mysterious paralyzing disease that caused her to wear leg braces for life since I could barely walk for much of the last week. I'll spare you where my mind went until my neighbor, Dr. Steve, diagnosed it as a strained hip flexor and my hot, red rash...ice burn. R.I.C.E. (rest, ice, compression, elevation) he said, and no water skiing or power walks for two weeks. I'm pretty sure at forty two, I should never water ski again and that this sudden injury was simply the God's saving me from greater injury. The chills gave way to a few tears, when I read that one of the characters was dying. I dog eared the page that shared she had about a week to live and had been holding out for her birthday that day still strong willed and spirited. Someone before me had dog eared the same page and I wondered if their tears had stained the pages as they remembered a loved one lost too.

You see...this is our first lake vacation without my Mom. It's been three years since we embarked on this celebrated annual family tradition. Three years to.the.very.week. How could I not be missing her despite the fact that she's here in so many ways? It's not the same. In her own words though, "It is what it is." And what it is...good. Damn good. At some point, we go on not just because we have to, but because we want to. I want to.

This week, I know, will be hard for me, but it will also be some of the best times of my year. We've only been here for twelve hours and already so much of the fun has begun. We weren't even unpacked before T. Bone convinced Uncle B. Bone to try out their new tennis rackets and then pool cues. Miss Bit was the first one in the lake and she won Yahtzee. Hubby was in heaven when he caught a Northern Pike. We lingered in the hot tub long enough for the rain to come and listened to the thunder over rounds of Heart and Soul and Climb Every Mountain on the out of tune piano courtesy of my sil. There were cocktails and cheese, burgers and fries and chardonnay and caramelized cookie bars. My hubby quoted my Grandpa last night, "And I should complain? Aye!"

No. No complaints here. Life is hard, but good. Vacations are sad, yet happy. Birthdays are a time to look back and then forward.

At least I've learned something in forty two years.