Aaron's squirreled me away at Big Cedar for two nights, this first without the kids, for rest and sleep and rejuvenation. I am so thankful. Big Cedar is inexpressibly beautiful, if a bit "Big Fish" (Q's word for Bass Pro) overdecorated. The valley dazzles with the lake below and the steep hillsides and tonight's stormclouds racing around punctured by flashes of orange lightning. I don't even care that it's raining and we haven't been able to enjoy the pools, etc. The scenery is just stunning.
But... I'm not cooperating by sleeping. The steriods meant to ease the inflammation in my lungs keep me awake, sometimes all night. We're on day 8 now, with four more days to go, and it's hard to keep going on such little sleep. There are dark baggy circles under my eyes... a first for me. Nothing to be done about it-- lung health trumps shuteye at this point-- so I'll stay up a bit, till my eyelids grow heavy again, and head back into the bed to see if I can grab another few hours of sleep before morning.
He asked me at dinner tonight what I'd like to do when the kids are off to college. We're years from that, and I was a little flummoxed by the question. Um... "something creative," I said, "something fun. I really would like a serious garden...."
I'm a little surprised by my own lack of vision.
I do have one little idea, though: I would love to somehow be involved in recording the history and music and culture of our region. Some of my most electric moments, when I felt most fascinated and most thrilled, have been when I was learning and connecting to Ozark history. Dr. Bob Cochran's Folk and Popular Music class in college, discovering the wonder that is Winslow's Ozark Folkways, Still on the Hill's Ozark project, hearing stories about the old times and ways that Aaron hears as part of his work with local seniors. All of this feels like a tuning fork that makes me quiver inside somehow.
That's a weird statement. Ever feel like you were made FOR something? This is about as close as I get to that, other than the simple but intense joy of having a husband and children of my own and the spiritual peace that comes from knowing Christ.
Ever since we returned from Florida, I can feel my roots growing into this place as surely as if there were taproots coming off the tips of my fingers and toes. My genealogical roots are a few hours further south, but I feel a connection to these hills that I can't really explain. My mother-in-law feels it too, and we've talked about it: this is HOME, and our soul rings truest here.
So, late at night, in this overly woodsy little condo, being stared at by various local dead animals on the walls, I got up to write this down. Who knows, really, what the future will bring? But perhaps:
Something about history.
Something about the Ozarks.
Something about writing.
Something about music?
Something about stories.
Preserving it before it is lost.
Food for thought, anyway. We'll see what comes.