Beauty, Pain, and Laughter

June, the month of Not-Quite-Yet.  Spring can linger or be long gone by June, but the busy lives of school, ceremonies, and gardening haven't yet given way to lazy summer nights.  It's a month of almost, maybe, not yet, and goodbye.  When Mike and I were planning our wedding, I was determined to pick any month other than June.  The June Bride mocked me.  She was pristine and predictable.  She was that woman who had chosen and planned everything the right way, was now married for over forty years, and was frigid.  Well, that's a whole other story.

This June was a visit to Maryland.  I walked the property of my former community.  There were other details to the weekend, very important ones, but that was my mission.  I didn't know it was my mission until I was home and realized I'd neglected my friends and family in the Mason-Dixon heartland.  It was painful to know they had taken second, third, and even no place.

But I stood on the land.  I felt the breeze that used to whip my veil around and cause my heart to expand.  The birds were in the sycamore trees, singing a call that once surrounded my thoughts on countless evening walks.  Mulberry trees were thick with berries not quite ripe for picking.  I knew each tilt in the gravel road that leads to the burial ground.  The grass had never been cut.  It was the same throng of sweet green blades I knew so well.  They were the exact ones, I am sure.

Each moment, each inhale of honeysuckle led to the next place where my soul had already been.  It takes years to know land.  The visit reminded me of how I have owned only two pieces of land in my life: the community property and my grandmother's cottage on Mason's Island.  I am rich.  I am blessed to have entered so fully into the corners of these two places. 

The following weekend was set aside to visit the cottage (now owned by my aunt) with my whole family.  Bear was not himself.  Only recently have I seen his happy self return.  My being away with Mike for our anniversary and then my visit to Maryland took its toll on him.  We needed weeks to heal, time to show him that I was not leaving again.

By the time we entered the only home of my childhood, I was thoroughly done with reflection.  We had friends sharing the time with us---good food, wine, and weather.  It was a perfect release to the intensity of hanging out with memories the weekend before.

And what only made June better was a week long visit with Lala.  We have known each other for over 25 years, and this was the best time we've ever shared.  I went from reflection and pain, to reflection and joy, to joy, to laughter and attempts at fearlessness.  Above all, laughter is what makes you whole.  It is the only way to live June and any part of life cramped with memories.