On Sunday though, it was just Sam and Rachael and I, each saying our goodbyes before a part of my life got on the bus and Sam and I headed back home.
There’s a kind of a fog that moves in with a loss and it obscures the joy from the hours before, and it gets hard to see things clearly. It gets hard to put things in perspective. But it slowly lifts over the hours and the days that follow, and the sense of loss, while still there, dissipates enough to allow for some reflection.
We were lucky to be able share time together, however fragmented, and because we were together, even the things that others might foolishly view as mundane, were instead, events.
Friday night was spent grocery shopping with Jake and Rachael and was a time to explore, but more importantly, it was an opportunity to catch up with each other’s lives and enjoy time together- which is what it has always has been.
Saturday morning offered the opportunity to fulfill a promise to Sam, which was to walk over to the doughnut shop for breakfast- just the two of us. The doughnut shop is just steps away, but in all of the time we've lived here, I've rarely visited and I've never gone inside to eat. This was an adventure for both of us.
On the short walk back, it started to rain.
There are times when it rains where it feels almost comforting, and I don’t always know why this is. This was one of those rains.
As everyone but Sam slept, Rachael and I went to the Farmers Market. Barely covered by a shared umbrella, we explored the offerings from the various vendors who were camped under their own tents, protected from the slow but now steady rain. Rachael bought some vegetables. I bought some mushrooms and a couple of loaves of homemade bread- more as a reward to the brave and lonely baker than out of any perceived need for bread at home. But as it turned out, sharing homemade bread on a rainy fall morning only added to the sense of comfort.
We were going to go apple picking on Saturday but the rain was still coming down, slow and steady and I was thinking that even if we couldn't go, if it meant we would all be stuck inside together, it would still be fine with me. But time was possibly running short with Rachael not knowing whether she would have to leave in the afternoon for work the following day.
So as we waited for the rain to offer some kind of resolution to our afternoon plans, Sam and Helaina and I went grocery shopping again. As with the previous night and the previous years, it was really just an excuse to be together.
These Saturday visits to the grocery stores have become something of a ritual for Sam. As I strolled around the stores with a list which he helped me write, Sam strolled around for samples and conversations- each time going a little further away; each time getting a little more independent.
The three of us returned home with the groceries, Sam’s pizza and the rain that had greeted us in the morning had now given way to blue skies. In the mean time, Rachael found that she would not have to return to work until a day later. We all headed out to go apple picking under the bright autumn sun.
Walking the orchard was, as usual, a semi-organized adventure. We rode a covered wagon pulled along by a tractor to a spot where the driver felt it was safe to release us. As we disembarked, we headed in different directions to wander through the trees like cattle searching for the best places to graze. One by one, we eventually herded together and, lugging the bags of treasures we had pulled from the trees, we walked the path back to the car, plucking a few more trophies along our way before heading home again.
Later Saturday, Helaina, Rachael , Jake and I walked up to local landmark which overlooks the town. It was one more chance to stretch out the day before evening, and my fatigue set in.
Somewhere, among all of this activity, we celebrated my birthday with presents and later, pie.
On Sunday morning, we made what may have been a final trip for the season to the flea market. When we got there, we found it to be somewhat sparse. This was probably due to the heavy, early morning fog that presented itself as threatening weather but by the time we had arrived, it had burned off to reveal another bright blue sky.
Most of us scattered as we scoured for treasures, sometimes meeting along the way. One by one, people arrived back at the van where there was the usual reevaluation of what we had just bought along with the usual questions of what we passed up. Some of us went back for one last purchase before it was time for Jake to leave with his girlfriend, and for the rest of us to head home.
Back at home, Helaina would run some errands before leaving to spend most of the week with her boyfriend. Rachael got down to the difficult business of mining the stored boxes on the back porch and going through the process of weighing what she could manage to carry, against what she needed to bring back.
Evaluating necessities can be a tricky thing, particularly when you feel you’re under pressure. Some necessities are obvious- things like food or clothing. But there are other things that add to your life in ways that anchor you emotionally and make you feel a little more grounded when you’re home- wherever home may be at that particular moment. Maybe it’s photos or books. Maybe it’s a blanket or a record player. Whatever these things are, they are things that can only be defined by you and they are often the things that are left behind for expediency’s sake. But more often than not, I think a life ends up poorer because of it.
So Rachael packed all she could and with Helaina leaving and Jake already gone, Sam and I drove her to the bus station where we said our goodbyes. Then a part of my life climbed onto the bus and Sam and I drove back home on a bright and sunny late autumn afternoon, and I fought the fog that was slowly rolling in.
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