Every year I go out for some alone time. Last couple years I’ve hiked into a secluded spot overlooking a nearby lake and set up my hammock on the Friday for an overnighter. With camp set this year by 5 pm, I’m sitting back in my hammock, tarp in porch mode, and a belly full of roast beef sandwich as the sun glistens off the lake. Turquoise water contrasting with the deep blue sky and lush greenery all around. A loon calling out and the gentle evening breeze through the leaves are the only sounds in the air. I still smell the last hints of lilac blossoms barely perceptible amidst pine and spruce mixed with birch and poplar. Light wisps of cloud high up in the sky means the weather should be fair for at least the next day or so.
The temperature never gets too hot here in June ... mid 20s Celsius, or high 70s Fahrenheit, but the clear sky means that it will be chilly once the sun goes down. It stays light until well after 10 pm, though, so for now it’s warm and tranquil. Perhaps a deer or coyote hiding in the brush might be watching me lazily lounging in my hammock. There’s no danger to them, or me. Everything is calm. Again the loon calls. Everything around me lush and in bloom. An ant crawls over my foot.
At home, I’d be having a double of single malt scotch paired with a wonderful maduro cigar ... but that’s at home. Here it’s all about the moment, nature, tranquility, and my reminiscent journey. I never smoke on the trail ... or drink. Life’s small pleasures don’t compare to the connection I feel with nature. I couldn’t tarnish that with anything because my soul desperately needs this moment, like a spiritual massage. I feel whole and complete.
My mind drifts off to the memory of my oldest child. A solitary tear means that my heart hasn’t fully healed. Perhaps he is the architect of this moment just for me on Father’s Day weekend. The breeze rustles the leaves with one last breath and now everything is still. The ant is gone, the deer and coyote still in hiding, and even the loon is quiet. A personal moment of silence. Mother Nature’s gift to me, nurturing and compassionate.
Thank you, Lord, for this place. Thank you for my privacy. Thank you for my son, the time I had with him, and the love we all shared. And thank you for this perfect moment. Thank you, Billy. I will have a happy Father’s Day. I love you, Son, and I miss you dearly.
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