I finally had the opportunity to join Trolley and Steph at their cottage, after a drive of roughly three hours through scenic country roads. I didn’t even realize how close we were when we passed by it on the way to the farm 17 years ago, although it may as well have been 17 centuries. How strange it is to think of those as my salad days when I had already experienced enough heartache and trauma for a lifetime.
They call it a cottage but it’s really a house when there’s a full kitchen, laundry room, several guest rooms with queen-sized beds; even glass shower stalls.
Since then, I’ve loved and lost and loved again, taught myself to play guitar, and gained an unhealthy obsession with canine companionship. If you asked me back then where I would picture myself now, I might have given you a few guesses, but none would have been close to correct.
The view of the lake from atop the stone staircase. Not seen: rows of wooden recliners and a varied collection of watercraft — including a paddle boat — at the dock.
One of the highlights of a cottage weekend is the dinner Steph spends hours cooking for everyone on Saturday. This time, it was falafel, toum, and roasted veggies, all prepared from scratch.
And she always knows how to plate a dish like a New York chef.
I kept myself mildly sedated most of the time, but being away from my home for more than a few hours was scary enough to cause a panic attack that left me staring dazedly into a bucket once the terror receded. When constant company isn’t enough to keep the darkness at bay, it’s a sign that I’m still broken and need to occupy myself, lest I be consumed by the void of depression.
Regardless of how difficult it may have been, I was grateful for time I got to spend with my friends and their dog1, especially after all the isolation I’ve faced throughout the pandemic. It was also the perfect chance for Trolley to try out his new drone while I played around with my new set of poi. If I had more spoons, perhaps I would have recorded some music or tried to capture the night sky, but I’m trying not to shame myself for making smaller goals and taking the time I need to survive.
- I make it a point to give Toba a treat and toy every time I see him, but this time I bought a bag of smaller pig-skin twists so I could surprise him throughout the weekend. He also got a bacon-scented throw toy, cause he’s the goodest boy in the world, yes he is.
© Jeff @ equivocality, 2022. | 2 comments
Post tags: autumn, depression, friends, poi, reflection, vacation | Categories: Daily Life, Photos, Video
