Chapter Fifty Five; Hitting the Pause Button

“Alright, if we sit here at still as statues maybe the seagulls will come closer to us,” I propose to my seven-year-old daughter. We are on vacation and perched at the end of a dock tossing bread to the birds as we attempt to entertain ourselves on day two of fog and rain.

So much for my little fun in the sun plan.

My daughter sits quietly as instructed, blue eyes staring intently at the floating bread just a few feet from us, but her silence is brief.

“Mom?” she whispers.

“Yes?” I whisper back.

“Birds poop on statues.”

I giggle to myself as I turn to little miss reality check, poke her in the ribs and affirm with a smile, “Yes. Yes they do.”

The sun eventually decided to appear again just a few hours later and the rest of vacation went off without a hitch. My kids and I spent hours swimming in the lake, horsing around on the inflatable trampoline and just flat out enjoying our reprieve.

For them, the vacation was what a vacation should be when you are a kid. Hours of fun, sand in their hair, and a diet consisting largely of chocolate, marshmallows and graham crackers.

For me, it was all that and then some. Ironically, we adults oftentimes need a break from the very lives we are solely responsible for creating. The frantic pace of responsibilities: jobs, activities, even our friendships. And every once in a while it is imperative we take a time out and just sit still.

Like statues.

And on this vacation.

I did precisely that.

Our cabin included a lakeside deck crammed with squishy patio furniture. And whenever the kids had had enough of Mom and escaped to do their own thing (playing with new friends at the cabin next door won out over spending quality with mama bear on more than one occasion) I parked myself on those suckers, put my feet up, and just absorbed the stillness.

It is amazing how much easier it is to think when you aren’t in “your” life.

I don’t know if it was the view of the water stretched out before me like some big blue flawless piece of silk or the soundless silence.

Probably the combination of both.

Regardless, I felt like the stillness allowed me to literally empty out my head of all thoughts, spread them out before me and then consciously chose which ones to put back in and which ones were worthless wastes of mental real estate.

“Now this is a good one. I should spend more time with this one actually. Let’s put tha sucker at the front. On to the next. What the hell? Why is this even still in here? What is the point? I’m tossing this one in the lake. Alright, now look at this one. I should not forget about this one. This one rocks. Well holy crap look at this next one. Good gawd, this is nothing but junk that makes me feel bad when I give it attention and it just brings me down. Out you go.”

And on and on.

I mentally sorted.

Keeping the jewels. Relinquishing the shit.

It was freeing.

At the end of the week, we packed up the car, locked up the cabin, and headed back down the highway. Back to our lives.

Because although vacations are necessary, fun is essential, and the opportunity to sit still every once in a while is vital for sanity, life can’t be lived on pause forever.

After the stillness and the processing, eventually you have to just jump back into life headfirst. Get off that deck and go make some waves in that water. Live life and appreciate the treasure in it all: the joy of the good and the lessons that only the bad can teach.

Tempting as it is, you can’t sit still forever.

Because, like a wise little girl once told me:

Birds poop on statues.