In Our Little Hideaway
SOMETIMES YOU JUST GOTTA GET AWAY. A change of scenery, a change of pace, a change of routine.
Every few months my wife, the Extraordinary Dawn, and I try to get away for a few days. We would like to do it once a month, but that never seems to happen.
I am retired, but Dawn is not. She is a Minister, which is a seven day a week job. It is not just a Sunday morning gig. Even on her “day off” on Monday she is starting to prepare for the weeks ahead, taking phone calls from people in need, both spiritually and/or physically, and seeing to the well being of the Church as both a building and a community institution.
She loves it.
Even though she loves it more than any other job she has ever had it is wearing. That is why we try to get away for a few days now and then.
I would love to say that our getaways take us to exotic locales or to high adventure, but that would be both untrue and unaffordable. What we usually do is get a suite with a kitchen and a fireplace at a nice little hotel in Bloomington, Indiana – all of an hour’s drive away from Terre Haute (That’s French for “Where did all these crows come from?”).
Our refuge lets us kick back, hit a few bookstores (Bloomington is home to Indiana University), maybe catch a show on campus, or a movie. But what we do the most of is SLEEP.
After we check-in and unload our bags we hit the supermarket down the street to load up on required goodies and then our boots get tossed into the corner and the serious relaxing begins.
We arrived here yesterday afternoon. I don’t expect Dawn to emerge from the room until Tuesday. She could really do the “Hermit in the wilderness” thing if needed. Not me. I must have Gypsy blood in me from somewhere way back. I do know that I have ancestors who were banished from two different countries. I suspect that they were Prop Comics.
This morning, being Monday, will find me up and in the car by 8 AM, steering my way to the Auxiliary Chapel of St. Arbucks of Bloomington followed up by a pilgrimage to the nearby Barnes & Noble Bookstore. In a masterpiece of city planning both of these places are within a two minute drive from the hotel and within limping distance of each other and the supermarket.
By the time I get back to the hotel Dawn may be up, but I don’t count on it. I will have made a pot of tea for her before heading off for coffee.
This will be the pattern for each day we are there. It works.
We will stay up late, eat more than we should, and maintain minimal contact with the outside world.
It restoreth the soul.
Doing this for ourselves is both a treat and an act of self-preservation. There is that old saying, “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.” Well, neither of us is named Jack and only half of us can qualify as a “boy,” but the basic underlying truth fits us well.
We are here now, in the here and now, tending to ourselves.