The tide rises, the tide falls,
The twilight darkens, the curlew calls;
Along the sea-sands damp and brown
The traveller hastens toward the town,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
Darkness settles on roofs and walls,
But the sea, the sea in the darkness calls;
The little waves, with their soft, white hands,
Efface the footprints in the sands,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
The morning breaks; the steeds in their stalls
Stamp and neigh, as the hostler calls;
The day returns, but nevermore
Returns the traveller to the shore,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I am leaving today, and just like the prelude to a deployment, my brain has checked out long before my body has started to move. I hate lingering, so the sooner I can rip off the Band-Aid, the better.
I first awoke at 2:59AM. Consciousness brought awareness to a ball of potential energy brewing in my stomach. Is it time to go? No, not yet. Sleep a few hours more. And then at 4:40AM, there’s an apologetic rapping at my bedroom door. My nephew’s night would appear to have been as fitful as mine since he’s awake after a bad dream.
We both go back to sleep for a bit longer until my brain’s window shade flips up for good at 5:51. I can feel the journey laid out before me as I rise and start a familiar process. The ball in my stomach has become kinetic as I gather a bath towel and wander downstairs and out the back door one last time.
In two hours the weatherman will inform me that the air temperature is 56 degrees, but right now I am only focused on the experience of the outdoor shower. No immediate interest is taken in the atmospheric data of this clear morning.
Sunrise over familiarity.
The cool breeze that traces the growing blue sky is finally registered as I shut off the rubberized spigot and reach for my towel slung on the wooden post. Should’ve brought two of these out here today since the air has transformed my hair into half-thawed icicles. No matter; I’m moving inside now. This is probably one of the last outdoor showers that will be taken this year, so I don’t forget to gather my toiletries and move them indoors for hibernation. They’ll be waiting for me when I return.
The house continues its morning slumber as I do my best to silently stuff clothing into my little suitcase. I swear that I have gotten better about being a morning person, but at the same time I still prefer to keep my waking moments confined to my own head. That way I can arrange the day’s furniture according to how I think it should look- before anyone else comes in and messes with the situation.
Out the front door and I’m shoving off with little ceremony: bidding loved ones farewell in my usual way. The longer a goodbye lingers, the more chance you have to reflect on the passing space of time that you all have shared. This delay only opens you up to suffering eyes that are glassy with remembrance– a condition not very becoming of a New Englander.
And so the hugs are short but meaningful and then comes the moment to reverse out of the driveway. The tide rises, the tide falls. A bit like rewinding a VHS tape while you still have it on set on “Play”. But the sentiments here aren’t rewound- they are reversed. I arrived with excited anticipation and I depart with an echo of bittersweet regret. It never gets easier, the act of leaving the places you love.
One coda:
Health takes many forms.
I was too lazy to dump out the granules of yesterday’s French Press, so a pit stop for coffee is a must. This will take me back into town one last time. The air temperature has not improved with the sun’s rise, but I still opt to sit outdoors and take in a post-Labor day peace that comes with the annual Tourist Exodus. Summer is truly gone, and I am struck by this reality as I take my first sip of black coffee. Much like the shower, I didn’t realize that I was cold until I felt invigorated by the drink. There’s something about experiencing the contrast of hot and cold, darkness and light, that makes you appreciate your surroundings so much more. Right now I am in love with the change in season, as much as I am in love with the idea of returning again before snow starts to fall. As much as I hate the fact that I need to get up from this table and get on the road.
Once you cross that bridge, my friends, the ghost is through, his power ends.
Merging onto Route 24 now, and my body is catching up to its brain that is already sitting at the departure gate in Logan. The sea change is just about complete, and I dial myself in accordingly. The feeling in my stomach is gone; I have already let go.
Now the fun part is figuring when next I can be washed back in for another cycle. Living is magic.