We usually don’t know what we’ve missed…because we missed it.
It passed us by, unnoticed. We were looking somewhere else, thinking about something different.
Moments, details, events of all kinds, they occur every second, just within our awareness, yet we will never know of these gajillion happenings.
And then there are the misses we are all too familiar with. The ones that got away. The disappointments. The knowledge that despite how much we tried to get it, hold it, keep it, the forces at play just did not allow our grasping.
A simple moment, a special person, a dream experience coming true that you know, like everything, has a beginning and an end.
It’s all moving.
In Mary’s garden this weekend I tried to capture nature in all its blooming glory. But I was dealing with elements beyond my control. Things like light and wind. These dictates do not care about photo ops. They tease me with breeze as I try pausing motion into stillness with a click.
So many misses in life will never be known.
And for those losses that we are, in fact, well-aware of, we rarely broadcast them.
So why not? Here’s to failed attempts. To what I didn’t get. To celebrating that there are things beyond my control. To the humbling reminder that greater forces are at work.
And to celebrating with even more appreciation, when I’m gifted a little perfect moment of my own to keep and share.
Our island is in a flash flood watch. Thunder and lightning through the night. Nearly three inches of rain per hour in some areas.
With wild weather outside, we are giving thanks to be warm and dry within the safe shelter of home. Rain pours down upon our roof and the sky lights up in flashes. A booming distant crack follows not long after, rattling us.
The Bohemian looks at me. “And we are thinking to camp at the beach for a couple months this winter?”
I sigh. “Well…”
We live in the tropics. Even in this inclement weather the temperature gauge hovers around a comfortable 70 degrees. It can get soggy but not, technically, cold.
The theme of home is in the air for us, as we enter the final month of our sublet and do not yet have a new place lined up. Yesterday’s post recounted a moment of the Bohemian and I gazing across fields at our hoped-for dream home. That place is quite possible, but only a potential reality in the distant future. Between now and the new year, we need some home base, even if it is temporary.
Hence the talk of camping. We thought, why not? Folks save their pennies to travel to an island paradise and pitch a tent on a tropical beach. Why not set up camp at our neighborhood beach park and begin every morning to the sound of waves lapping at our tent door?
We’ve mentioned it casually to Jeb, who instantly goes to practicals. “What about the bus stop?”
“Yeah, it’s close by. I’d get you there like always, no problem.”
I’m thinking internet. Posting here to the Archives would mean crafting pieces on my laptop then piggy backing on the local bakery’s wi-fi in the mornings, in order to upload my daily pieces.
It would be an adventure. All of our things in storage. Homework by headlamp. Public bathrooms. Cold showers. And…those heavy winter rains.
Moodah the dog is curled up in the Bohemian’s lap as another dance of lightning and thunder shake the sky above our sturdy cedar home. I shut the laptop screen that shows no new rentals on our local classifieds’ website. I sit down by my husband and the dog.
“Yeah, winters can be wet and stormy.”
No matter how we look at it, there is no perfect resolution in this moment. No certain outcome.
What we do have are two empty tea cups and rain falling on the roof outside. We will soon get cozy in our bed and, eventually, this storm will pass. We will hope to wake in the morning (because we realize, even that is never guaranteed). We will continue taking steps to try to find our next place. Try to strike the balance between taking action and just letting go to trust. Try to follow our instincts as well as our minds.
In framing our current dilemma, we’ve asked each other this question: “What’s the worst that could happen?”
Truth is, we’d end up sleeping on a tropical beach, watching sunsets ocean side and living just a little closer to the elements. I think we could weather that storm.
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