Every day is epic

I didn’t collect any rocks this year. Instead, I collected lost cat flyers and covid tests. The trip began and ended in isolation. Sandwiched in the middle of the common area, I spent the majority of the time in bed on the first floor next to the stairs, dining room, and living room. I felt very connected to them all week, even through closed doors. I would come to love guessing whose footsteps were coming and going on the stairs. 

“I wanted it to be epic,” my brother said, already bereft. “Our last day was supposed to be epic. And it wasn’t. It sucked.” At first, I felt I could hardly chime in as I brought the dreaded c-word into our annual family vacation. The one we say we wait for all year. The one that tugs at our heartstrings and pulls us back into an ocean of memories again and again. It’s a magical place for us. And now it is a magical place for our children. And that is the epic part. We wait all year for this and year after year we make it happen. Some years will be more epic than others but in the end, this is a tradition. A legacy. And it is amazing and untouchable. 

The room had two windows that looked out onto the front yard. For most of the week I kept the air conditioning on and slept like a bear. Every now and then I could hear voices in the slight distance. “Rho-deeee…Here, here boy! Rho-deeeeee…come on boy!” This would go on every day at least twice a day. My nephew took to giving me the daily activity reports. Apparently, the day after we arrived a woman moved into the cottage on the property and lost her cat. There was a search party going on and each day more neighbors joined in to help distribute flyers, monitor the area, and offer support to the very distraught owner. “Yeah, it’s really sad. The woman was crying and everything,” he added with a wistful look. “Do you feel any better?” he asked sweetly. “A little,” I’d say with a slight smile. “Sleep is medicine. I’ll be better soon.” He would reason every day that it’s better to have Covid while together in Newport than to have it anywhere else in the world. “Well, the beach was amazing today,” his tanned leg was swinging back and forth in the doorway. “The waves were crazy. It was awesome. Maybe tomorrow you will be able to come with us.” His pep talks and news reports were the highlights of my day. 

Every now and then my brother would pop his head in. “Can I get you anything? Are you hungry? Would you like some roasted pork and vegetables?” I was so hungry and those homemade meals were everything. By the middle of the week, I was testing negative and could come out of isolation with a mask on. We fell into our usual routine — where he cooks and I clean up. I loved doing the laundry and the dishes. Reorganizing the refrigerator. I thought about them as I puttered, purged, and folded. The ice cream was almost gone. The steak from last night would make a great salad. The sandy water bottles were in need of refills. I wonder what they built today. Did they find any cool creatures? Were the seagulls ruthless again? Was it high or low tide? Maybe tomorrow I could join them. In the meantime, I knew I could count on my daily debriefing and that was more than enough.