The Last Lake Vignette

Wake-up came naturally, and without an alarm somewhere between 6 and 7. With coffee in hand, I was, by the time we left, snowshoeing 6 km before my workday began. At noon, and to break the day, an additional near 5 km, and finally at 5, a work-out to close the work day. Cooking dinner, laughing, a lot of coffee, and an evening full of film and television, along with the writing of the incense(d) heart cleared my mind for a natural bedtime of 9pm.

Deactivating twitter was a God-send. So was the stopping of 24 hour messaging on a multitude of platforms, and a steady posting of information on Instagram. While the social media aspect of pull-back continues now that I’m home, it’s the sleep and work schedule to which I need to stick, in order to feel as I do. I am hopeful that it’s manageable and maintainable.

Over the course of the last week, I am out of the house at 7am, and walking for 2 hours before sitting to work. Again, at noon, I am out for a one hour walk. I am hopeful that this is maintainable, no matter the circumstances.

Most important for me, however, was proper daily meditation. I would do it while on the lake, and for 30 minutes whilst in bed before passing out from equal parts sheer exhaustion and gratitude. This too, it continues.

Our home on The Lake was a decision we took some months ago after P floated the idea that since we are quarantining alone, D and I ought to in fact move in together. From that excellent pin, we sprung off to find a location nearby to home. Secluded, and lush, where we would both continue to work without disruption. Close enough to home so that in the event that a beloved fell ill, we would be back in under three hours. Far enough from home that we would not feel an impulse to make it back this way until necessary.

My morning view, from bed –

Why D, when I am such an asshole when it comes to with whom I am willing to share any space, let alone a secluded one for any amount of time over an evening, let alone six weeks? Why D, whom I now have nicknamed Hummingbird, because she is always humming? Because we agree on a day’s tempo, we share a sense of humour, and where I am anxious, she is calm; where she is anxious, I am calm. Ying to Yang, we balance one another without issue or challenge. Example – as soon as we entered the Coccon, D let me loose in the kitchen to set it up as I needed, because she instinctively understood that to do so would give me calm. She was not wrong. Example – She is an anti-racism educator and consultant. When she needs to purge, she knows my White-adjacent ass is here as a safe space, always. She is not wrong.

After six weeks, we can both confirm that we are jigsaw pieces in rhythm, opinions, and temperament. In fact, we only yelled at one another once – over a camera angle shot on the brilliant Peaky Blinders. I stood off our couch (photo below), and jabbed at the television. She kept rewinding the shot and yelling I was wrong.

She. She was in fact correct.

And after the yelling, we thanked one another for the space to dance and mime and shove fingers at screens so loudly in the forests of Québec.

I don’t imagine that either of us anticipated how changed we would be once we left Coccon behind.

Thank you for coming along with us on our little ride these last six weeks. I hope that you have been healthy and happy, and on a road to more of this same.

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