You know you’re a geek when…
…on a beautiful blue-skied day while your husband golfs, you choose to be firmly ensconced in the Banff Public Library.
Did I mention that I’m completely and deliciously alone in soul-satisfying solitude? And that it feels as replenishing as a tall glass of iced tea on a blistering day?
Yesterday was a big driving day.
We left Saskatoon around 8-ish and pulled into our Banff National Park campsite around 6:30-ish. We are booked in for five full nights. You may as well tell me it’s the rest of my life. It feels like a huge luxury to set up camp and spread out. Kevin even snapped on the outdoor RDome to the pod so we now have a thrilling new space we’ve ambitiously dubbed The Conservatory.
We were amused at our similar reactions to being back in camping-mode. Both of us felt like we’d been away from it for a long time.
Which is kind of funny because we had a wonderful week in Saskatchewan.
We hung out with so many relatives. All of whom I adore. We ate meals together, we went on long walks every day, we drank wine and laughed and sometimes, there was some shared tears. For five of those nights we had a basement guest room and ensuite completely to ourselves (thank you Rhonda & Brent!)
In short, it was a feast of luxurious space and warm connections.
After our previous weeks of more or less being completely on our own in Washington and Oregon, we had both been looking forward to hanging out with friends and family. We were craving conversations with someone other than ourselves.
But you know that feast or famine expression? That all or nothing thing? Our week back in Saskatchewan was kind of like saddling up to the all-you-can-eat smorgy and gorging yourself in to belly-busting oblivion.
You know too, how there’s always that one gluttonous jerk with the mile-high over-filled plate?
That was me.
I was in there with both hands, stuffing myself silly with conversations.
I think most people consider me an extrovert and I mostly wouldn’t argue. But I know too, that I also need to be completely alone, to decompress, to reflect, to just be.
I need time to not talk. To not connect. To not gorge.
In short, to not do all the very things that we were so excited to come to Saskatchewan and do.
And so…last night we arrived at our campsite, surrounded by mountains and trees, pulled together an easy dinner of salad, grilled sausages and penne and then sat and stared in to the flames of our campfire.
We barely said a word.
And it was good.
Love the photo of the lake with clouds reflected!
Thanks Joan. It’s a great place to take pictures. So much sky!
You are such an amazing writer. Love this one!
Blessings Mary 💕 That means a lot coming from you. I think you know how wonderful alone time is when you’re engrossed with your own writing and your salt water angels.
It’s really great that you’re able to appreciate both — the conversation and the quiet. Being in tune with your needs to have one or the other is so important, I think! Balance. Right?
Great piece. Brilliant writing, as always. You bring us right into your journey, and I love it!
Hey Gwen. It’s taken me a lifetime to finally realize how I need both. Apparently I’m not a quick study in these matters 🙂
I also like having meals with my family, talking about the past, exchanging ideas, laughing… but I also like to be on my own. I need it to recharge my batteries. I also like my own company, I am more an introvert. I agree with Gwen, it’s nice to strike the right balance.
Hey Catherine, it sounds like you’ve figured it out too. I think I might be morphing into more and more of an introvert as I get older, or else maybe I’m finally just more aware ofmy need for more solitude.
Good thing there are still photos of our old orange elevator… It was torn down in November. Greetings from Wakaw!
Oh no! I’m sorry to hear the elevator was torn down. They are such iconic prairie symbols. That’s a real shame.