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Part II: Movies and Drinks.
Two days now on the coast, two and a half counting Sunday, and I have been busy. Somehow, in my time here, I accumulated what feels like a truly staggering number of people who want to see me, and timing worked out such that I saw every one of them either yesterday or today. It's not bad, by any stretch—they're excellent people every one and I'm glad to be getting to spend time with them—but it never fails to stagger me how exhausting a vacation can be.
Monday I woke up bright and early, convinced by some trick of the light that it was 10 or 11 in the morning and I had wasted the first part of my day. Imagine my surprise when my mother was still home. Still, it allowed me to have coffee with her, and it gave me an early start on this week's edits for Not Providence, which was a wonderful beginning to the vacation. From there...began the whirlwind.
We had lunch at the radio station where she works, with her and one of the owners (an old family friend). We had dinner at the Fort Bragg Brewery, an important part of my coming-home ritual, exempted only during holidays. We discussed and discarded me moving back, and talked work, writing, love and life. We watched movies: Secretary (taut, quirky, dark-chocolate sweet), Wonder Boys (delightfully lunatic and straight from the heart), Duck Soup (funny and fundamental), and the newest Harry Potter (good but oddly slow). I realized what a small town this is (a long-silent friend who I met with again this week is married to a man who lived with her ex-boyfriend and just sold my old gaming buddy some dice?). I was told many times it was great to see me, and discussed celebrity chefs and their contributions to the world. I drank excellent beer.
And I felt like a grown-up.
I left Fort Bragg in 1999, returning since then only for visits; more than three months at a time is unheard of. And somewhere in the time, I went from desperate to participate in the adult conversations, to effortlessly getting involved in them. Gone are my bad conclusion-jumps, my awkward insertions, my occasional overstretching for the sake of a joke. I can listen to others' stories now, consider their points; I can read a room without it being painful. I am, suddenly, one of the adults.
And no-one marvels at it. That's the best part. Beyond expected (and heartfelt) reminiscence from my mother, it was a seamless integration. And I've probably been doing it for years without consideration. It is only now, as I talk with the people I thought of as The Adults in my life, that I realize how much I have really grown.
I've been angry lately. I've been tense and wired and overwrought. And suddenly, it's all small stuff. Even the crack in my swanky new hat, which we are hoping we can get fixed. I don't feel like I've got fiddler crabs gnawing at my back, and my breathing is much improved.
I think maybe I needed a vacation.
Two days now on the coast, two and a half counting Sunday, and I have been busy. Somehow, in my time here, I accumulated what feels like a truly staggering number of people who want to see me, and timing worked out such that I saw every one of them either yesterday or today. It's not bad, by any stretch—they're excellent people every one and I'm glad to be getting to spend time with them—but it never fails to stagger me how exhausting a vacation can be.
Monday I woke up bright and early, convinced by some trick of the light that it was 10 or 11 in the morning and I had wasted the first part of my day. Imagine my surprise when my mother was still home. Still, it allowed me to have coffee with her, and it gave me an early start on this week's edits for Not Providence, which was a wonderful beginning to the vacation. From there...began the whirlwind.
We had lunch at the radio station where she works, with her and one of the owners (an old family friend). We had dinner at the Fort Bragg Brewery, an important part of my coming-home ritual, exempted only during holidays. We discussed and discarded me moving back, and talked work, writing, love and life. We watched movies: Secretary (taut, quirky, dark-chocolate sweet), Wonder Boys (delightfully lunatic and straight from the heart), Duck Soup (funny and fundamental), and the newest Harry Potter (good but oddly slow). I realized what a small town this is (a long-silent friend who I met with again this week is married to a man who lived with her ex-boyfriend and just sold my old gaming buddy some dice?). I was told many times it was great to see me, and discussed celebrity chefs and their contributions to the world. I drank excellent beer.
And I felt like a grown-up.
I left Fort Bragg in 1999, returning since then only for visits; more than three months at a time is unheard of. And somewhere in the time, I went from desperate to participate in the adult conversations, to effortlessly getting involved in them. Gone are my bad conclusion-jumps, my awkward insertions, my occasional overstretching for the sake of a joke. I can listen to others' stories now, consider their points; I can read a room without it being painful. I am, suddenly, one of the adults.
And no-one marvels at it. That's the best part. Beyond expected (and heartfelt) reminiscence from my mother, it was a seamless integration. And I've probably been doing it for years without consideration. It is only now, as I talk with the people I thought of as The Adults in my life, that I realize how much I have really grown.
I've been angry lately. I've been tense and wired and overwrought. And suddenly, it's all small stuff. Even the crack in my swanky new hat, which we are hoping we can get fixed. I don't feel like I've got fiddler crabs gnawing at my back, and my breathing is much improved.
I think maybe I needed a vacation.
Labels: travel
posted by Tyler at
12:02 AM
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