Sunday, April 13, 2014

an essay on a weekend

This weekend was one of those magic moments of genuine connection and wholehearted joy that happen only rarely in life. This year we seemed to hit on a perfect recipe in the people who came to the cabin and the way we spent our weekend hours. It was a balance of relaxation, adventure, cooking, drinking, game playing, conversation and reflection. It is a blessing to witness the blending of these ten people, some of whom only know each other from these weekend retreats, coming together annually.
Four years ago, this weekend began as a celebration of a lovely ladies birth. It was so wonderful that it took on a life of its own and now we come together once a year just because it is what we do. It feels so right to retreat into the quiet of the woods and to catch up on each others lives. It is a break from the constant upkeep of reality; a chance to restore and to exist in a more natural, primal way. In the cabin you eat when you're hungry, sleep when you're tired, and wake when you're rested.
We turn off our alarms in the cabin and everything takes on a hazy, lazy quality as time flows onward unnoticed and the days drift by without appointments or checklists. It is a way of living that feels so right and yet proves to be so hard everywhere but this hidden cabin in the woods. Which is why, I think, we begin the countdown to next year the moment our bags are packed and our cars are pulling away to return us to our city lives. 
Leaving the cabin was hard this year as the weekend was so perfect. My eyes welled as we drove down the mountain. I remember the ends of summer camps as a child, saying good bye to new friends who at the end of a week were old friends. Knowing, then and now, that no matter how many times you go back to that place (the camp or the cabin) there will never again be a time exactly like the one you just left. We will never be able to recreate the moments that made this weekend so perfect. I left so grateful to have been a part of it and so sad that it has passed. I will cling to the photos and cherish the memories as we count down to next year. 

No comments:

Post a Comment