Several days ago I made the long drive from North Carolina to Michigan. The weeks I’d earmarked for a work trip have been redefined by the death of my grandfather. While I still find myself working onsite, I’m also stumbling through grief, holding my father’s hand, and reliving lots of stories that star my gramps. We take turns as the storyteller.
I find myself especially grateful for the lake. After completing the 12 hour drive, M and I unloaded our bags, leashed up Fitz, and booked it to the beach. Fitz drank the water, which he found much more palatable than our April trip to the ocean. M and I welcomed sand between our toes. And I, donning my stale and sweaty road-trip clothes, took a swim. Not a quick dip. A true kick-your-feat, take-some-laps swim. In merciful fashion, the water was warm. A tepid bathwater temp of 61º. It swallowed me up and whispered you belong here.
In the past thirteen months, I’ve come to think of North Carolina as home. On the drive up, I told M I didn’t think Michigan could tempt me back. But immediately upon smelling the white pine and lake, I was seduced. Even after suffering a day-long bout of vertigo (potentially due to water in the ear), I still felt the need to take another swim.
That being said, after a week in town, I’m also remembering some cultural quirks. For example: the general aversion to doses of negativity or the lack of anonymity in public settings. I suppose that’s the nature of reconnecting with deep roots. One can swiftly scout out both its beauty and blemishes.
This past week has also offered countless reunions. These gatherings have been the sort that offer a deep knowing. Easy banter and heart to hearts. When these folks ask how I am doing, I can tell them, “Good. I am grieving.” Some of them can throw back memories of my grandfather, while the others volley with my tears or dark humor or whatever else surfaces. Here I am blessedly comfortable. Baptized in the waters and knowing.
During our last night in Saugatuck, Marc and I canoed the lagoon, hiked over the dune, and entered Lake Michigan one last time. We were accompanied by Fitz and a herd of friends. We let ourselves be swallowed by conversation and laughter and water.
Thanks to all who made me feel known these past two weeks, which offered comfort and good humor in abundance. And thanks to the waters for holding me always.
In love,
Shan
P.S.
I also wanted to share a glimpse of the gallery exhibition I participated in. It included my first solo zine! While the exhibition is no longer up, I do still have zines available. Per my last post, I’m trying to get brave and share my work with a wider audience. If you would share Mackerel Skies with a pal or two or three, it would mean the world to me!
I’ve also put together a little thank-you list for those sharing my work, one of which includes the zine! Share Mackerel Skies and I’ll pass along the following thank you’s:
For 3 referrals: Custom List of Book Recommendations
For 5 referrals: A Pocket Sized Poem Zine
For 25 referrals: 1 Year Subscription to Mackerel Skies. That’s right… I’m building up to a subscription situation. Wish me luck!
How to Help
Share Mackerel Skies. Here’s the breakdown: Use the referral link below, or the “Share” button on any post. Text it, email it, scrawl it on a piece o’ paper and send it in the mail. You can also share by sending your pals one of your favorite posts. Here’s one of mine. The possibilities are endless.