…so I left you last with a musing about “the reality of the yes” in which I wondered how Todd and I would fare on our month-long wilderness adventure (okay there’s a bathhouse at our campground and a/c in the tiny trailer). Those of you who know us well know our love story and our compatibility and how we partner in everything from parenting to fiction writing, but I am a champion when it comes to anxiety…and so we had to make a stop at my therapist’s before leaving town. “Well,” she said about my anxiety over how we would handle conflicts on the road, “We’ll find out.”
We rolled into St Andrews State Park on the bay of Florida’s panhandle last night at 6pm. Plenty of time to set up camp on a beautiful site, right on the water.
Trailer situated. Check. Galley set up. Check. Firewood. Check. Attachment for the pahaque tent that perfectly connects to our tiny trailer so that we can leave the door open for our 70lb golden retriever so that he does NOT share the queen mattress that takes up the entire floor of the tiny trailer….not included.
We bought the tent used from the nicest guy and he just forgot the other bag in his closet. 450 miles away.
At this point the Florida bugs are making an appearance, a storm is approaching, and we have a gaping hole in our trailer/tent system. A windy squal whips up and Todd and I jump into action without hesitation. Together we jerry-rig the $300 custom tent ($450 new) to our tiny trailer door. Working in tandem, with nary a cross word, we finagled, suggested–and together, we improvised a way to make a place for Bo beside us. We were a dance.
Later–after grass fed steak, risotto, and a salad of local cukes and tomatoes made from the back of our trailer–as we lay side by side inside this month’s home, I let myself relax and breathe, with Todd, with myself, with god.
Last night could have held an argument from which we recovered, but the touch of the divine was gentle–it chose to offer me a tender start, one that made it impossible to forget that Todd and I have been doing this for 31 years. Working together. Making a home. Dancing under the trees.